Ella - Book 1: The Ethnographer
by thai.khue
Summary: A woman who wanders the world to work with people. A man who shuts himself behind closed doors to work with potions. An activist in daylight; a protector in darkness. And The Boy Who Lived in between them. (AU: The Dark Lord will not return so the world moves on without him). Warning: Mild alchohol use, attempted suicide, non-graphic violent scenes and references to sexual crimes
1. Chapter 1 - Spinner's End

**_Author's note_**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 1

 **SPINNER'S END**

Ella curses silently under her breath in frustration.

The map in her hands is not making sense any more. To make things worse, a drop of water mercilessly drills a huge hole through the pathetic piece of paper. Now it's real hopeless.

She has managed to get lost. Again. Not that she minds. Getting lost has been a regular part of her life, and it would feel wrong if she made it through a single month without getting lost somewhere, somehow. That, however, does not eliminate the urge to curse her map and the universe in general for getting her into this.

The eave she is standing under is useless. It is too small to do any good. All the houses in this neighborhood look exactly the same – none of them has a larger eave. It is getting dark and the rain is displaying the tendency to turn into a storm.

She is too busy wiping rainwater from her face to notice two figures approaching until they are standing right in front of her.

He is a tall man. A really, really tall man, with black hair, black eyes, black clothes and a black umbrella. On his side is a boy with black hair but other parts less so.

The man fixes her with a glare. The boy shifts his gaze from her to him and back. Caught off guard, she blinks at them, too dumbstruck to speak.

"If you don't mind, Miss, we wish to enter our home," mutters the man.

Oops.

"I'm sorry."

Ella leaps aside to clear the doorway she has been blocking. The man shoves the key in the lock without delay and without another glance at her. The boy, however, continues to eye her curiously.

"Difficult folks," she murmurs inwardly.

She would happily let them disappear from the scene as soon as possible, but the rain has indeed turned into a storm and her survival instinct overrides everything else.

"Excuse me, sir?," she asks hurriedly. "I have got lost. I wonder if there is a telephone booth nearby I can use to call a cab?"

The man shoots her a look that screams "How dare you bother me with your stupid question?". She ignores it.

"Unfortunately, no," he says.

They quickly enter, and some of the boy's nagging sounds escape before the door is tightly shut.

The storm is growing wild, whipping a mixture of wind and water at her face. She sighs. It is pointless to just stand here and suffer. She will sense the way by her intuition. At least there is the chance of finding a larger eave.

She shoves what is left of her map into her shoulder bag, ready to leave. Suddenly, the door swings open. The boy peeks out and calls after her:

"Please come in, Miss. It's storming. It's dangerous to be out there."

He briskly steps aside and gestures her to enter. In three seconds, she weighs the options. It is indeed dangerous to walk in a storm like this. Broken branches have started to fly wildly over her head.

"Thank you. It's very kind of you," she smiles. The boy grins in reply.

For the unfortunate woman who has lost her way for half an hour in the rain, the warmth and pleasant fragance of herbs inside is heavenly. The boy sits her down in a worn-out armchair and offers her a dry towel.

"I will bring you some tea."

With that he leaves the living room. The moment her face dries, Ella immediately registers the extraordinary number of books around her.

Bookshelves line the walls, leaving absolutely no spare space. All of them look very antique. Failing to refrain her curiosity, she studies the titles of those sitting close to her.

When the boy reappears with tea, she asks:

"You are wizards, aren't you?"

He freezes on the spot.

"I guess from the titles of these books," she adds.

The aforementioned man instantly peeks in out of nowhere.

"You are a witch?," he demands.

"No, I'm a muggle," says Ella.

"Don't lie to me," he narrows his eyes and walks in, towering over her.

Slightly frightened and greatly annoyed, she frowns:

"No. What would I lie for, sir?"

"These books are charmed muggle-resistant," he darts his eyes along the shelves and back to her. "Only wizards and witches can see the real titles. And. Only. Wizards. And. Witches. Use. The. Word. 'Muggle'."

Ella shrugs:

"I can see through muggle-resistant charms. I am a wizard-born muggle."

Both the boy and the man stares at her in confusion.

"You mean you are a squib, Miss?," asks the boy, his head tilted to one side.

"Yes, 'squib' is the British term," says Ella. "But I prefer the international term, which is 'wizard-born muggle'."

The man scans her top to toe and back:

"Where are you from?"

"Finland, sir."

This family is upside down. The child is amazingly polite and the adult is amazingly rude. Shouldn't it be the other way around?

The boy clears his throat and proceeds to serve the tea.

"Tea for you too?," he glances at the man.

"No."

"Okay. Where is your home, Miss? How did you get lost?"

"My home is in Finland," says Ella. "I am here to run an errand. I think there is something wrong with my map because I couldn't find the way as it shows."

"There has been construction around here," says the man. "Passenger routes have been blocked and redirected in a very disorganized way. No one would bother to update the map given that only one house in this neighborhood is still occupied."

"You mean you are the only family living here?," her eyes open wide in surprise.

"Obviously," the man sneers.

Dictated by her second instinct, she ignores his rudeness and immediately searches for the notebook in her bag. Opening it on her lap, she jots down the interesting fact.

"What are you writing, Miss?," asks the boy, his head tilted to the other side.

"Facts," she replies without looking up.

"Facts?"

"Oh, never mind," she closes the notebook and shoves it back where it was.

The man lazily points his wand at one of the bookshelves to summon a map. He almost throws it on the table in front of her. Almost.

"Please locate your destination. I can escort you to the closest apparition point."

Ella reaches the table to open the map, not without a glare at him. She tries to focus on the fact that he is trying to help. She can suffer from this little rudeness in exchange for a fast, safe trip back to her inn.

"It's here, sir," she points at the location.

The man glances at her index finger. There is an apparition point one block away from the inn. He briskly grabs his travel cloak.

"Go warm up the food," he tells the boy.

With an unfriendly glance at her, he holds out his arm. Despite her protesting pride, Ella rises.

"Goodbye, thank you very much for your hospitality," she smiles brightly at the boy, stressing the word "hospitality" to point out the contrast.

Once she has grabbed the man's arm, he asks coldly:

"Secured?"

"Yes, sir."

They disapparate. A moment later, they appear on the street where her inn is. The storm has eased out. She exchanges a final glare with him:

"Thank you, sir."

"You are welcome."

Without further pleasantries, which apparently do not exist in his being, he disappears. Ella shrugs it off and happily heads towards her inn. Another night to enjoy in her adventurous and exciting life, which is loaded with encounters with strange human beings, wizarding and muggle alike.


	2. Chapter 2 - Hogwarts

_**Author's note**_

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 2

 **HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**

The first day Ella is back in her office after the field trip in Britain, the awaited owl from the British Ministry of Magic arrives and drops two rolls of parchment on her lunch. She rescues the food barely in time. Putting it aside, she takes a deep inhale and unroll the posts.

Perfect. Three families agree to host and let her observe their daily life. Nine heads of household agree to be interviewed. All the neighbourhoods she visited are represented. This is simply perfect. It is so perfect that she can actually skip lunch and still feel perfect.

She skims the participants' profiles and pauses at one of them.

 _Head of household: SEVERUS TOBIAS SNAPE_

 _Year of birth: 1960_

 _Occupation: Teacher; freelance potioneer_

 _Address: 4 Spinner's End, Cokeworth_

 _Family status: Single father (half-blood), 1 school-age child (adopted, half-blood)_

 _Consent to: Interview._

She snorts. Perhaps she can drop out this particular participant.

But his neighbourhood is an interesting case.

She can still afford to drop him out.

But his family is an interesting case too. The only family with an adopted child and both he and the child are half-bloods.

Wait, there is a note...

 _Note:_

 _Meeting for interview at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland. Please find details of the arrangement in the enclosed letter._

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?!

"Dear Väinämöinen!," she gasps.

"What is it?," Kaine asks absently from the other side of the division. "You forgot your cutleries again?"

"No," she rises and reaches over the division to show him her grin. "I got invited to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts? That sounds familiar," Kaine pauses, letting the fork hang in his mouth.

"Familiar indeed," she sneers. "It's the most ancient and prestigious school of magic in Europe! Who knows, probably even in the world!"

"Uh huh," Kaine shifts his eyes back and forth, the fork still hanging in his mouth. "And what are you invited there for?"

"An interview. One of my participants teaches there."

"Um…," he shrugs, "Congratulations then, I guess?"

"You are boring!," she whines and drops back to her chair.

The enclosed letter bears the crest of Hogwarts. She opens the roll of parchment with butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

 _From: Prof. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Great Britain_

 _To: Miss Ella Arietta Virtanen, Wizarding Ethnographer, Department of Social Research and Development, the Finnish Ministry of Magic, Finland_

 _Dear Miss Virtanen,_

 _It is our pleasure to learn that you will visit our school on October 3rd, 1992 to carry out an interview with one of our teachers, Professor Severus Snape, as a part of your research project._

 _On the occassion of your visit, we would like to invite you for:_

 _1\. A short school tour after your interview;_

 _2\. A regular lunch with our staffs and students;_

 _3\. A short meeting with Headmaster Albus Dumbledore._

 _Should your schedule allow, we will be glad to invite you also for dinner and a stay overnight in our guest quarters._

 _Please kindly inform us about your plans for arrival and departure as well as your preferences concerning our invitation by September 25th, 1992 so that we can be well-prepared for your visit._

 _Yours faithfully,_

 _Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore_

Ella blinks. Is she dreaming?

o0o

No, Ella is not dreaming. She has replied to the school and received the confirmation. She wonders all the way from Finland to London and from London to Scotland on the Hogwarts Express what she owes the pleasure to. Why on earth would Hogwarts, of all places, grace her with such hospitality? And why on earth would Albus Dumbledore, of all people, be interested in meeting with her?

The questions fall off her mind for a few minutes when the trolley passes by her compartment. The colourful sweets catch her attention. She buys a large box of chocolate frogs. She is heading to a school full of children and it would be handy to have some sweets with her in case she gets to work (or play) with some of them during the day.

Ella is in the habit of bringing Finnish chocolate to gift her interviewees after they get the business done. She snorts again at the thought of the particular interviewee she is meeting today. She has decided, after a long contemplation, to treat him equally to other interviewees and bring him the customary chocolate. She owes him an apparition trip anyway, so she will give him the chocolate and call it even. At least his nice and kind son will have a share.

She is picked up from the train station by the school's gamekeeper, a friendly half-giant (which he shyly admits). He then escorts her into the enormous, marvelous castle and down several stair flights to what is supposed to be Professor Snape's quarters.

The professor looks and behaves exactly the same as how he did more than two months ago during their little encounter at Spinner's End, except for perhaps the one second his face betrays his surprise when he (presumably) recognizes his once-unwanted-guest.

Ella is usually not happy when interviews designed to last half an hour end up lasting only fifteen minutes, but today said interview lasts ten minutes and she is not that unhappy. She can save the frustration for later, when this man's boring and useless responses disturb her data (Honestly, why did he even agree to participate to begin with?!). Now she gets to experience life at Hogwarts for a whole day and meet Albus Dumbledore! She can suffer from ten Severus Snapes in exchange for this one day.

"Thank you, I don't eat chocolate," says Snape.

"Then please take it for your son," Ella fakes a smile.

The man rolls his eyes:

"Fine. Are we done?"

"Yes."

He rises, proceeds to the fireplace, throws in a handful of Floo powder and dictates:

"Professor McGonagall's office."

A moment later, someone's face appears blurrily in the fire.

"Yes, Severus?"

"Miss Virtanen is ready, Minerva."

"Already? You are well ahead of the schedule! But all right, the Head Boy and Head Girl will be at your quarters in five minutes."

Ella has the feeling that the man frowns at the phrase "five minutes". She decides to spare him the awkwardness by sticking her nose to her notebooks, which he responses to by sticking his own nose to what she assumes to be his students' homework. Or he would do that anyway regardless of what she might be doing, she doesn't know. And she doesn't care.

They are rescued from each other's company five minutes later by two students, the school's Head Boy and Head Girl, who then guide Ella on the school tour. She happily enjoys her reward for the long trip and the boring, unfruitful ten-minute interview. The castle is simply fantastic.

Before lunch, she has the chance for a casual meeting with the professors and school staffs in the staff room. Most of them are old, some very old, and most are nice and friendly except for... you-know-who. However, she notices that the other staffs have no problem teasing and mocking said you-know-who despite his... you know, his being who he is.

Ella is interested in the British wizarding society for a reason. Finland is a young nation, and wizarding Finland is even younger because it gained dependence from wizarding Sweden much later than its muggle counterpart. Britain, on the contrary, is known for its long history and old traditions. She is both excited and slightly nervous when she finds herself at the huge, high staff table, looking down at the student body who are making no pretence to hide curious looks and whispers over their lunch about the muggle visitor. Muggle, of course, it is written all over her appearance. But in the midst of those looks and whispers, she notices something that brightens her up.

A boy wearing round glasses raises his untidy mop of hair to look at her, and they exchange smiles. This means he recognises her too?

As the boy turns back to his friends, Ella starts to engage in a conversation with the teacher sitting next to her - Professor Charity Burbage, who teaches Muggle Studies.

Her nervousness increases when the meeting with Professor Dumbledore approaches. She has seen and greeted him at lunch. He looks extraordinarily gentle and casual for all what his name is attached to. She slightly panics when he offers to escort her to his office by himself and she is totally stricken with a headache when he tells the password to the gargoyle:

"Creamy Apricot."

She calms down a little once settled in her seat with a cup of tea and a pair of twinkling eyes in front of her.

"It's our pleasure to welcome you to Hogwarts today, Miss Virtanen. I hope the interview went well and you enjoyed the school tour and the lunch?"

"All are well, Professor," she smiles. "Thank you very much for everything."

"I am glad you enjoy your stay," the old man smiles back. "I wish to have a short meeting with you because I have a suggestion to make. As you may have known, for security reasons we are obglibed to be informed about your identity and background before we can invite you to visit during the school year when students are present. Since Professor Snape resides here at the time your interview is scheduled, it is natural that he meets with you here and that we welcome you as a guest of the school. That results in the fact that I, as well as the other staffs, am informed about your background. I am impressed by your work and research interests. As I understand, it is your interest to study the interaction and co-existence of the wizarding and muggle communities."

He pauses with an expectant look.

"That's true, sir," replies Ella. "And I am particularly interested in the British society."

"And you have done excellent work on that, which brings me back to my suggestion. We are planning to extend the scope of one of the subjects in our curriculum, Muggle Studies. We however have only one part time professor for Muggle Studies at the time being, therefore we are looking for another professor who can commit full time to teaching and developing the subject. Miss Virtanen, if you are interested, I would like to offer you the position of full time Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts."

Ella freezes and fights to prevent her jaw from dropping. Dumbledore continues:

"I would assume we don't have any better conditions than those of your current job to offer. However, with regards to your research interests, I believe if you would like to carry out your personal research along with your teaching, as a Hogwarts professor you will be entitled to exclusive access to some of the Ministry of Magic's resources which you might find useful."

And she will get to move to Britain. And she will not have to travel long distances for her field trips. And living in Britain, she will know the place better and hopefully get lost less often. And she will have a job at the most ancient and prestigious school of magic in Europe (probably even in the world!), whose headmaster is Albus Dumbledore of all people.

Ella blinks. Is she dreaming?


	3. Chapter 3 - Harry Potter

CHAPTER 3

 **HARRY POTTER**

The autumn of 1993 witnesses the day Ella Virtanen officially becomes a full-time Hogwarts professor. Together with her, two other new professors are introduced to the staff: Professor Rubeus Hagrid for Care of Magical Creatures and Professor Remus Lupin for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Ella starts working on her classroom design immediately after the first staff meeting. She has been imagining how her classroom should look like for the past whole year since the day the headmaster made the job offer. She smiles at the vision of young, innocent and curious faces that will enter her mini world of Muggle Studies a few days next. She used to be one of those faces, although at a humble local wizarding school in Southwest Finland, not one that is comparable to Hogwarts.

She is concentrating too much on her work to notice someone landing in the corridor in front of her classroom on a broomstick.

That someone knocks the classroom door which has been left open.

"Good morning, professor?"

Ella turns around and finds the mop of messy hair and the bright smile she has never forgotten.

"Oh... You are here!"

"I came to school early with my dad. I was flying around and I saw you here."

The boy pauses for a moment, and then seems to realise something.

"... professor," he adds shyly.

"I see. Are you heading somewhere? Want a cup of tea?"

"No... I mean yes, thank you, professor. I am just 'fooling around', as my dad calls it..."

"Come in then," Ella waves at the boy, who follows her to enter and of course, looks around the classroom with curiosity written all over his face.

"Thank you, professor," the boy says when she passes him the cup of tea. "And thank you for the chocolate, my dad said you brought it for me."

"It's actually for both of you. But your dad said he doesn't eat chocolate, so naturally all of it went to you."

The boy looks a little confused at that. But then he seems to shake it off his head.

"It was nice. I loved it."

"I'm glad to hear that," Ella smiles.

"Why did you bring us chocolate... professor?"

"I brought chocolate for all participants in my project, and your dad - your family - was one of them."

"Really? How many... uhm... participants do you have?"

"In the project that your family was involved, there were twelve families in total."

"So you brought chocolate for all of them."

"Yes."

"Are all of them in Britain?"

"Yes. I have been studying Britain for the past few years."

"Do you like Britain, professor?"

"It depends what aspects of Britain you are talking about. Would you mind if I continue putting up these things while we talk?"

"No, I don't mind, professor. Sorry, am I bothering you?"

"No, kid. It's lovely that you drop by. I didn't have the chance to talk to you when I visited last year."

"Uhm... professor, would you like me to help you with that? I mean, you are trying to put those posters on the wall, aren't you?"

"Yes. Why?"

"You know... if you want, I can..."

The boy shyly pulls out his wand and looks at Ella expectantly. She nods:

"Give it a try."

He makes a few waves with his wand, and all the posters clumsily fly up and stick themselves to the walls - clumsily, but the end product is qualified.

"Perfect. Thank you!"

"Dad taught me how to do it last year when he decided to keep me busy by letting me help him set up the classroom. I know many tricks for potion ingredients and cauldrons and brewing stations... but you don't teach Potions, so... Uhm... Can I help with anything else?"

"No, thank you, this is good enough. You have done half of my work in a few seconds."

The boy smiles and starts to swing his legs back and forth from the desk he is sitting on.

"Doesn't your dad need help with his classroom now?"

"No, he never needs help. He let me help only to keep me busy and out of trouble."

"I see."

"Your classroom looks interesting, professor," says the boy while his eyes curiously browse the posters on the walls and the artefacts displayed on the shelves.

"Does it? I can't wait to welcome you kids to my class. Which year are you in?"

"I'm in third year, professor."

Ella feels dizzy. Is there a proper way to escape from having that title planted in each and every single sentence addressed to her?

"I see. What's your name by the way?"

"I am Harry. Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter... Potter? I thought you should be a Mr Snape?"

"Yes, I should be... But my dad said I am the heir of the Potter line and the Potter line is an ancient and noble pureblood house and if I changed my last name into Snape it would mean putting an end to the Potter line because it wouldn't make sense if I'm a Snape and later name my children Potters and all... So I chose to keep Potter as my last name."

"Okay, that's a bit long... But I got it. So you are Mr Potter."

"Yes. But uhm... well, some professors do call me Harry, so if you don't mind..."

"No, I don't, Harry," Ella smiles.

Suddenly, a cloud of silver light in the shape of a doe appears out of thin air in front of them. It speaks in a man's silky voice:

"Lunch, Mr Potter."

As the doe disappears, Ella blinks:

"Is it from your dad?"

"Yes, it is. He is calling me for lunch."

"I can figure that out. But why does your dad call you 'Mr Potter'?"

"Habits die hard, I guess...," the boy answers shyly. "Well, the thing is I was his student before becoming his adopted son so many things have changed but that particular thing remains... I don't think it's that important though. He does call me 'Harry' when necessary."

"When necessary?"

"Yes."

"And don't tell me you call your dad 'professor' also in private?" Ella giggles. This family is funny indeed.

"I used to... Now I call him 'sir'. Or 'Severus', which is of the exact same number of syllables as 'professor' as he pointed out, but it makes me feel more at home so I go with it."

"I see. But you do refer to him as 'dad'."

"Well yes... But actually looking at him and calling him 'dad' is quite a different story, you know..."

"HARRY!"

Both of them are startled by the yelling voice coming from somewhere along the corridor.

"Merlin I'm dead," Harry exclaims before rushing out of the room.

His dad storms towards him and stops right in front of the classroom.

"Did. You. Get. My. Message?" he hisses to the boy, and right that moment Ella totally gets what Harry meant by "Merlin I'm dead".

"Yes, sir..."

"AND. PRAY. TELL. WHY. YOU. ARE. STILL. HERE. NOW?"

"Uhm... Professor Snape?" Ella speaks up. She deems it extremely necessary to rescue the poor little boy.

The man glances at her and takes one second to register her presence.

"Professor Virtanen," he replies with a blank face.

"I'm sorry, it's my fault. Harry and I have been talking and we... I lost track of time."

His eyes move from Ella back to poor Harry and continue the glaring.

"It's fine, Professor Virtanen. It's Mr Potter's responsibility to keep track of his time."

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry mutters, looking a perfect illustration for "Merlin I'm dead".

Snape delivers one more death glare to Harry before turning on his heels with a swish of his robe:

"Goodbye, Professor Virtanen, and I apologise if Mr Potter has bothered you."

"No, Professor Snape, we were just having tea and Harry even helped me with my classroom. He didn't bother me at all. I'm sorry again for losing track of time and keeping him here too long."

"I said it is fine, Professor Virtanen."

Without another glance at Ella, he departs on his way. Harry briskly grabs his broomstick, sends her a quick "Goodbye, professor" and barely has time to take her reply before half walking, half running after his dad. She can't help but peek out of her classroom to steal a look as they walk away. The man picks Harry's ear while scolding:

"Irresponsible. Brat!"

"Ouch! I'm sorry!" Harry almost jumps from the pain.

That immediately turns Ella's children-protection mode on and something is definitely going to happen.

However, that something never happens because the next second, the same hand that picked the boy's ear has turned to gently striking through his hair. She can no longer hear them because they are heading further and further away from her classroom. Harry almost disappears behind his dad's billowing robe, like a baby bat under his father's wing.


	4. Chapter 4 - Lotus

CHAPTER 4

 **LOTUS**

"How much trouble were you in this morning?" Ella asks while passing Harry a bowl of candy.

"Not much. He was just worried."

"You should be more careful next time. I would have been worried too were I in his position."

"Yes, professor," the boy replies shyly and starts to swing his legs.

"Does he know you are here now?"

"Yes. I told him."

"That's good then. At least he knows where to find you. But couldn't you have sent him a reply message? The way he sent it to you?"

"You mean the patronus?"

"It is called a patronus?"

"You don't know it, professor?"

"No, I don't. It was the first time I saw something like that."

"It was a patronus. My dad's patronus. It is advanced magic. He is teaching me how to do it but I haven't managed yet."

"I see. Well, that's enough sugar intake for today, young man," Ella takes the candy bowl away from Harry's enthusiastically picking fingers. "Would you like some berries?"

Harry flushes:

"I'm sorry."

"You are forgiven whatever you are being sorry for," Ella replies absent-mindedly while walking towards her kitchen to fetch her collection of berries and a bottle of homemade blueberry juice.

When she comes back, the boy is still flushing. He awkwardly drives the topic away from the sugar intake:

"Thank you for this morning, professor. For trying to... you know, talk me out of trouble."

Ella fights back a grin and pours themselves two glasses of juice.

"I was not trying to talk you out of trouble. It was partly my fault. Although I was indeed concerned when you said you were dead."

Harry flushes even more and swings his legs more vigorously.

"Have some berries. They are good for your health. I take it your dad is strict?"

"He is not strict. He is legendary," the boy brightens up, giggles and starts to help himself with the berries.

"What do you mean 'legendary'?"

"You will see when students arrive, especially the first years."

"Is he in charge of welcoming the first years or something?"

"Merlin, no!," he bursts into laughter. "I'm sorry. I mean, no, he is not welcoming the first years. They would scream and run straight home if he were. Professor McGonagall is bad enough - I mean scary enough, but when she welcomed us in my first year, we did have some nerve left to at least walk in."

Ella chuckles at the vision. Poor kids, why couldn't it be someone with a big smile or something waiting for them at the doorstep? Imagine a bunch of eleven-year-olds bouncing towards Hogwarts for the first time and ending up facing an old witch whose appearance alone screams "Do. Not. Even. Think. Of. Messing. With. Discipline. Here."

"It seems your professors are strict, aren't they?"

"I don't know. But I think most of the professors are... you know, just normal. It's Professor McGonagall and... I guess, my dad, who are equals. Well, not exactly. They have different ways. But they both scare the daylights out of first years. Not that the upper years are not scared, we are just more accustomed to it. Only my dad makes them cry though. Anyway, he is improving. I hope this year he will make fewer poor first years cry," the boy trails off, at some point seeming to talk to himself and forget about his company.

Ella frowns:

"Why would the first years cry?"

"There are different reasons. I don't know how my dad always ends up reducing at least some of them to tears every year. Even though he swears to me he has no interest in making little dunderheads cry. He was simply running his class and it was out of his control that some of them decided to display their distress that way."

"Little. Dunderheads?!," Ella repeats with disbelief. Just why on earth would a teacher refer to his students like that when talking to his son, no less?

"Uhm... well... you see... I have been complaining a lot about that too. But honestly, I think I would have a heart attack if one day I heard my dad speaking about his students in Professor Flitwitch's sweetie-cutie tone. It is just... how he is, you know," the boy shrugs.

"I see."

No, it is only a catchphrase. Ella does not "see" anything here. It is NOT okay for a teacher to call his students "little dunderheads", Snape or not. Her blood starts simmering. She forces herself to remember that she is merely a teacher, a newbie no less, and far from being the headmistress. But Snape had better not let her catch him red-handed speaking about, or worst, speaking to, students that way. No, he had better not.

"But he is not all how he looks and sounds like, you know," Harry adds quietly.

Ella raises an eyebrow.

"You said he had been your teacher since before he adopted you, right?"

"Yes."

She has been waiting for a right moment to bring up that question. She is curious, merely, but deeply, curious. Harry does not really show signs of a child with complications in life (or they have simply escaped her notice), yet his background seems to be far from normal. And Snape, by the looks and the sounds, does not seem to be a normal father either.

"May I ask what happened?" Ella asks cautiously.

Harry studies his swinging feet for a while and then, perhaps realising Ella is waiting, he quietly speaks up.

"Before that, I lived with my aunt and uncle. The summer after my first year here, I caused an accident to my uncle's sister by accidental magic. The Ministry sent someone to my aunt and uncle's home to deal with it, and my aunt and uncle were so mad that they signed the paper to send me to the wizarding orphanage right that evening."

His head drops, and so does his voice. Ella doesn't know what to think. She has heard all kinds of backstories in the world, adults and children, happy and tragic. But it feels so different from this moment, when she is actually listening to this lovely, kind-hearted child, in her new classroom, without a pen ready to jot down field notes, and without her ever-analysing mind working.

She opens her mouth, then closes it. She is not sure what to say and doesn't want to take any risk. However, Harry seems to be sliding down the memory path and thus letting the story flows out.

"Then Professor Dumbledore came to the orphanage the next morning to visit me. He asked if I had in mind a family I wished to live with and said he would help me contact them and help with the arrangements. But I didn't really know any families or any adults in the wizarding world who could and would take me in. Then I remembered Hagrid. Back then he was not a professor yet, he was only the school groundskeeper. Professor Dumbledore helped him with the procedures, but they failed because his income did not meet the Ministry's requirements. So I remained in the orphanage. I thought I would belong there until I come of age. But only two weeks after I was admitted there, one week after Hagrid's adoption was rejected, my dad - Professor Snape - showed up all of a sudden and told me he wanted to adopt me. I thought I had got hit by something on the head."

Harry giggles at the memory, and Ella is still all confused.

"Why?"

"We had never got along and the whole school knew that. He had been very mean and unfair to me since day one. I was one hundred percent sure that he hated me and I didn't hesitate to make it mutual. He was the last one on earth I would imagine showing up there and offering to adopt me. I even thought he just wanted to trick me and then make fun of me if I did believe him, or he just came to continue grating on my nerve how spoiled a brat I was and why no one wanted me."

Dear Väinämöinen, this doesn't sound good. At all.

"Well he couldn't have been that bad could he?"

"I don't know. But when I was eleven, to me Snape was capable of anything including using me as potion ingredients," Harry grins.

Ella is stuck in between a burst of laughter and a sigh.

"Why was he mean to you in the first place?"

"I had no idea until much later. He went to school with my parents. They were in the same year. He hated my dad, and I look so much like my dad that the first moment he saw me, he hated me too. Well, he said he never hated me, but for me, it's all the same. He was always mean and unfair to me for no good reason at all."

Ella rubbed her eyes. It is, unfortunately, quite easy to imagine Snape doing that.

"I didn't know that at the same time he was very close to my mum. He said she was his best friend. He didn't know I was not happy living with my aunt and uncle. When he found out I was sent to the orphanage and heard the story behind that, he came. He said he could be many things but he could not let my mum's child grow up in an orphanage, and that he misunderstood me but didn't hate me. So he asked if I wanted to go home with him. I still have no idea what hit me on the head but I agreed."

Ella smiles.

"Turns out to be a good decision, does it?"

"Well, at first we fought a lot. I even ran back to the orphanage once. We fought a lot, he yelled a lot, and I yelled back all the same. I gave up on him not once but many times and I told him to give up on me too. But dad is really a man of his word. He never gave up on me. Never. Until we found a way to get along."

Harry's features relax into a soft smile.

"You love him very much, don't you?" Ella asks gently.

He flushes, and then shyly nods. Ella wants to ask more about his blood parents, but intuition tells her not to. Perhaps not yet. She stands up and walks towards the bookshelf in her living room. A minute later, she comes back with a postcard. She gives it to Harry.

"Do you know this flower?"

The boy tilts his head at the picture:

"A lotus?"

"Yes. Do you know what it symbolises?"

"No, professor."

"Lotuses grow in mud, but they are very clean and fragrant. In some cultures, they symbolise people who have a difficult background but nevertheless keep their heads up and lead a decent life."

Emerald eyes look up at her expectantly.

"You have had a harder time than most children of your age have, but you are a nice and kind-hearted boy nonetheless. You are like a lotus. We have just met for a very short time, but I have a strong belief that you will grow up into a person you yourself will be proud of."

The boy is still staring at her and looks completely dumbstruck.

"Keep it. It's a gift from Finland," Ella smiles.

"Th.. thank you, professor," he shyly replies.

"You are welcome."

Silence endures for a few moments before Harry glances at the wall clock.

"Oh no... It's already dinner time! I have bothered you all day..."

Ella waves him off:

"No, you have not. I would have kicked you out if you had bothered me, but no, you didn't. I suppose it's time you go home?"

"Yes, professor. Will you be going down to the staff room now?"

"Yes, but I have something to do first. You should go, don't let your dad wait. And here, bring this home."

Ella gives him the berries that she has just transferred from the bowl to a box.

"Thank you, professor, but you don't have to... I have eaten a lot already..."

"It's only good to eat a lot of berries," she shoves the box into his hand. "Take it, and go before you run late."

Harry looks her in the eyes and delivers the bright smile that she ever adores:

"Thank you very much, professor."

"You are welcome. And... thank you for sharing your story with me. It is very touching."

The boy starts fidgeting and scratching the back of his head. Ella gives him a pat on his shoulder.

"See you later, kid. Drop by anytime."

"Goodbye, professor."

She stands and watches the child skipping away. The child with emerald eyes to whom she owes a cup of warm tea in the middle of a storm, at Spinner's End, in Cokeworth, on one of the endless field trips of a lonely ethnographer.


	5. Chapter 5 - Let the new teacher survive

CHAPTER 5

 **LET THE NEW TEACHER SURVIVE**

Harry does not come back during the rest of the week, which turns out to be a good thing since lesson planning ends up taking way more time than Ella expects, especially with staff meetings occupying the whole morning every day. She starts to feel bad about the messes she and her friends made back in school. They were fully unaware of the grand system teachers and the school staff presumably had to create and operate to keep students in place, in one piece and actually learning something.

Before she can even notice, the school opening day has come. Once again Ella finds herself on the high and huge staff table, in the middle row behind the headmaster and the four Heads of House, looking down at hundreds of overexcited children.

The level of noise goes down significantly when the entrance door opens. A little army of newly arriving first years follow Minerva into the Great Hall, looking apparently overwhelmed by the sight of everything. Ella can see some at the front of the group going pale when facing the Sorting Hat.

The hall falls silent when the Hat starts to sing its song. Some of the first years look even paler, others astonished. Ella is astonished too; this is truly a speciality of Hogwarts that is available only once a year. As her mind gets lost in the song, she comes across a vague idea of adding this interesting Hat into her artefact collection. Well dreams are tax-free, aren't they?

The silence goes dead when the deputy headmistress lifts the Hat from the stool and unrolls her parchment. However, it does not last long. House tables take turns to explode into applause every time a new member is received to the House. The newbies are quickly introduced to their respective Heads of House by indicating looks and whispers from their older housemates. With the second nature of a lifelong and professional human observer, Ella confirms what Harry said a few days before. The Gryffindors and the Slytherins seem to be the most nervous after stealing looks at their Heads of House.

Once all the first years have been sorted and settled where they belong, the student body go loud for a minute before the headmaster stands up and re-establishes the silence.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, students. I hope you all have had a nice summer. Before we dig into the customary fascinating feast awaiting us, I have an announcement to make. I am glad to introduce three new professors on our staff this year. First, Professor Virtanen, who will be in charge of Muggle Studies."

Ella stands up, raises a hand and delivers a smile to the hundreds of watching eyes and absentmindedly clapping hands. As she sits back down, the headmaster continues:

"As you might have noticed from the list of this year's textbooks, Muggle Studies is no longer only an optional subject for the upper years. From this year onwards it will be compulsory and will stretch across the curriculum from the first to the seventh year. Therefore, Professor Virtanen will work alongside with Professor Burbage to offer instructions for all grade levels."

A boy in the Slytherin House displays an interesting reaction. He shoots an unpleasant look at Ella, then snorts, and then whispers something with the other two boys on his sides, looking quite pissed off. By what, Väinämöinen knows.

"Secondly, I would like to introduce Professor Lupin, who will be in charge of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Remus stands up and gestures a humble greeting. He has always been quiet and humble, but Ella has to admit he looks a little overly humble in this context.

"And third, as Professor Kettleburn has retired this year, Care of Magical Creatures will now be taught by another new professor, who is none other than our familiar groundkeeper, Professor Hagrid."

Naturally, Hagrid does not need to stand up to make himself visible. He looks completely happy and satisfied, and Harry and two other Gryffindors on his side are applauding extra enthusiastically.

"So, we have got the announcement business over with. Now it's time for the most important part of every school opening ceremony: food."

The headmaster clapped his hands three times, and food filled up all the tables at once. All sorts of business seem to get off everyone's mind instantly as all attention goes to the feast.

Ella finishes quickly and leaves early for her quarters. She lights up her classroom, double checks everything all over again before getting ready for bed. She wants to be perfectly well prepared and in a perfectly good mood for the first day of her teaching career. Well, the first day of actual teaching, anyway.

o0o

"How was your first day - well, first morning?"

Minerva sits down next to Ella at lunchtime with an I-know-it-all-too-well smile. Ella removes her already exhausting face from her palm to smile back with the few drops of energy left in her being.

"Well... it did not exactly go smoothly, Minerva."

The deputy headmistress giggles:

"It happens to all new teachers. Things will fall into their place in no time, I assure you."

Ella rubs her forehead, having the least interest in the food in front of her. She thinks out loud:

"How can you only shoot a look and they all go silent and listen?"

"What are you looking for, Severus? That seat is vacant," Minerva suddenly speaks over Ella's shoulder.

Ella turns around to look at her other side. The famous black-top-to-toe figure is hesitantly taking the seat next to hers.

"Professor Snape," she greets with audible exhaustion.

"Professor Virtanen," the stone cold voice returns. They do not so much as glance at each other.

Minerva comes back to Ella's question:

"Well, that look works when it has been associated with well-established consequences for their misbehaviour. In other words, they are not put in place by the look per se; they are put in place by the vision of what will happen if they continue their way against the warning that look conveys."

"What will happen then?" Ella asks, feeling increasingly helpless.

"Points taken, for example, and detentions if that still proves inadequate."

Ella sighs. Much as she has gone from surprised to tired, from tired to helpless and then from helpless to crossed in the course of one single morning, she still feels bad at the idea of punishing the children, taking points included.

"The formula is pre-warned and consistent consequences. You need to manage it in a way that makes them know exactly what to expect for each type of behaviour they display. Answering a question correctly means gaining house points, for instance. Slacking off from classwork means losing points. Neglecting homework means detentions. So on and so forth. Structure, system, they will learn, and then you can start to actually teach."

It takes Ella every bit of her control to refrain from slamming her head against the table. She had been so naive to imagine teaching as giving academic presentations to students instead of to her colleagues. No. Her colleagues came by their own will, sat still, listened, took notes and asked relevant questions. Her students do not.

She starts picking at the food while murmuring both to herself and to Minerva:

"Is it also because I'm too young compared to most of the professors?"

Minerva giggles again while waving it off:

"You are one year younger than the most feared professor of Hogwarts the past decade," she eyes the other side of Ella amusingly. "Our students have learnt soon and well that a young teacher does not equal a lenient teacher - if not the opposite. Drop that glare, young man."

Ella does not turn around this time. The last thing she wants at the moment is to lose her composure and laugh at the glare that has been shot at Minerva in vain.

"Just relax, Ella. You still have ample time to figure things out and steer your classes in the right direction. Teaching is a learning-from-doing job; it takes time and it always does. Anyway, remember that you have the Heads of Houses at your back. Any students going too far out of the way, you can always inform us and we will deal with them accordingly."

"I see. Thank you, Minerva."

"Don't even mention. Now eat before you run out of time. Do you have class this afternoon?"

"Thank Merlin, only one more. Perhaps I can spend the rest of the time trying to work out the 'structure' and 'system' as you suggest then..."

"That's good. If you think you need some tips and tricks, find me anytime."

"Thank you very much, Minerva."

Ella smiles and ignores the sound of an apparent snort on her other side.

o0o

"Why does this subject have to be compulsory? My father was really pissed off. If only his vote had not been overridden by the other Board members..."

The blond Slytherin boy makes no pretence to keep his complaint to himself. Ella's observation yesterday rings true; he obviously has a problem with the subject before even studying it (in her class, at least). He obviously has a problem with displaying proper respect to the teacher too.

While Ella is weighing options of what to do about that, Harry shoots a dead glare at the blond boy, ten times more intimidating than his father's glare.

Ella decides to ignore it this time. She is in no mood. She wants to get this last class of the day over with and then take some time to regain her breaths.

"Good afternoon, students. Welcome to Muggle Studies. As you have known from yesterday, I am Professor Virtanen. I am from Finland and I am happy to see you all."

She smiles, and experience from the morning tells her that she has to pause a few seconds for even that piece of information to sink into the little minds.

"The purpose of Muggle Studies in your curriculum is to help you become better aware of and understand the co-existence of the muggle and the wizarding societies. We will start with the different communities in different regions of Britain, then we will move on to the Continent, and then the world. As such, the general rule is that we start all the inquiries from our own immediate surroundings before moving further. So now, to get started, I would like each of you to introduce yourself and the community your family live in. If you are a pureblood, I then would like you to share how much you know and what you think about the muggle community; similarly, about the wizarding community if you are a muggle-born and about both if you are a half-blood."

"How about if one is a squib, Professor?"

The blond boy, named Malfoy, casually raises his voice to pose the question, with a smirk no less.

"First, I expect you to raise your hand and wait to be called upon before speaking in class, Mr Malfoy. That goes to all of you as well. Second, I trust you are aware that Hogwarts does not offer instructions for wizard-born muggles, also known as 'squibs' in Britain. Therefore if you are sitting in this classroom or attending this school for that matter, it means you cannot be a 'squib'. Now since we are discussing this, the international term for 'squib' is 'wizard-born muggle', and I would prefer you to use that term in our class. Most research work you will refer to for your homework use that term, and although it is not essentially true, 'squib' is considered a belittling term by certain communities in Britain, as well as in the United States. Do you have any other questions?"

Ella is amazed at how an extra drop of sternness in her voice helps with the class discipline. Instead of the messes she had this morning, now she is having attentive looks and respectful nods. All it takes is a slightly worse mood than usual.

Malfoy raises his hand, his eyes glittering with rebellion.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy?"

"Can you give us an example, Professor? I mean the self-introduction. Can you introduce yourself and your background so that we know how to do it ourselves?"

Another defiant smirk.

"Sure, Mr Malfoy. It's a good idea. So you can listen and then follow my example. I am a wizard-born muggle. My father is a pureblood and my mother a half-blood. In Finland, most wizarding families live among muggles; so do my family, and so did I when I was back there. As such, at the personal level, I am not familiar with the lifestyle some wizarding communities in Britain employ, which is to live completely separately from the muggle communities. For me, the wizarding and the muggle worlds are hardly two worlds; they are more like two aspects of one united world. That said, this perception is bound to differ depending on one's background, lifestyle and experiences."

Half of the class start to get distracted; some try to cover up their yawns, in vain. Malfoy, however, is still staring at Ella as if he were expecting his look to cause some sort of damage; Harry is swallowing each and every word and the girl with bushy hair next to him is taking notes enthusiastically.

"So you are a squib, Professor," Malfoy continues pushing.

"Wizard-born muggle, Mr Malfoy. I suggest you take note of the term since we are supposed to use it in this class."

"I am just wondering, Professor. As you said, sq... wizard-born muggles are not allowed to attend Hogwarts, then how come a professor can be a wizard-born muggle?"

Ella almost sighs. Her patience is wearing thin. Only yesterday she still thought it were impossible.

"I would not say wizard-born muggles are not allowed at Hogwarts, Mr Malfoy. Education is a service offered and received. Education suitable for wizard-born muggle students is not available at Hogwarts, therefore said students have no reason to come here, therefore they are not here. For example, if you want to eat ice-cream and the cafe in your neighbourhood does not sell ice-cream, naturally you would go find ice-cream somewhere else. It hardly means you are not allowed at the said cafe; you are not there simply because the service it offers does not suit your needs. Do you get my point?"

Malfoy does not react; however much of the class seem to be impressed by the example.

"As for your question, I am here because I can offer a service that you young wizards and witches can benefit from, which is my expertise in a field relevant to your Muggle Studies curriculum. It has little to do with whether I have magic or not, just like you usually don't need to make sure the ice-cream shop owner know how to compose music before you buy his ice-cream. Is my answer satisfying, Mr Malfoy?"

The boy surrenders. He shrugs it off.

"I expect a verbal answer, Mr Malfoy, and for your information, I do not take a shrug as an appropriate display of proper respect."

"Yes, professor," he spits out grudgingly. Ella thanks Väinämöinen that the case can be closed now.

"Very well. Now we will proceed with your self-introduction. To encourage you to listen attentively, I would like you all to take notes of what your friends say about their background and their thoughts on the communities they do and do not live in. Your homework will be a three-foot essay summarising the points all your classmates have mentioned, with clarification on the notions that occur the most and the least frequently. Any question before we start?"

Little heads slightly shake; some students quickly get their quills and parchments ready for notes; others don't care.

"I expect you all to take the task seriously. If I see any of you not taking notes while your classmates speak, five points will be taken for each time you are caught. Failing to hand in homework with adequate quality will lead to detentions where you will redo the assignment anyway. So try to focus and do your work."

It turns out to be the best class Ella has had since she started her teaching career... this morning.


	6. Chapter 6 - A dad in the infirmary

CHAPTER 6

 **A DAD IN THE INFIRMARY**

Ella drags herself through the first week of teaching and falls back into her chronic sleeping disorder in the process. Already on Thursday evening, she has to make her way to the infirmary to ask for medication. She pauses at the doorstep.

"I have told you three times and I will not tell you again, Mr Potter. You will not stay here tonight despite whatever you may say or do. I told you he is fine, he is just sleeping. He will be teaching and taking points from Gryffindor again tomorrow afternoon the latest."

"Please, Madam Pomfrey. I promise I won't bother you. I will..."

"The only thing you will do is to return to your dorm before it's past curfew, Mr Potter. Merlin, look, it's already past curfew! I will have to contact your Head of House now, Mr Potter, and I advise that you obey before getting yourself into trouble."

"Hello, Poppy," Ella speaks up hesitantly.

"Ella? How can I help you?"

Poppy turns around to register Ella's presence. Her eyes scan Ella from top to toe and all the way back. A truly die-hard mediwitch.

"I think I have messed up my sleep patterns," Ella answers. "I used to have chronic sleeping disorder due to travelling; I think it is recurring. Can you give me something to stabilise the sleep pattern?"

"Yes, I think I can. Have you used any medication for that diagnosis before?"

"I used a muggle supplement. But I don't have it with me now; I didn't expect it to recur."

"I see. Let's try a mild dose of Sleeping Draught then. But can you wait a second? I have to send Mr Potter back to his dorm first. It's already past curfew."

"It's okay Poppy. I can wait. But may I ask what's wrong, Harry? You don't look very okay."

Sad and almost wet emerald eyes look up at Ella with a mixture of hope and helplessness.

"I just want to stay here tonight with my dad, but Madam Pomfrey won't let me."

"Your dad?" Ella's eyes open wide. "What's wrong with him?"

"He had an accident. He was brewing in his lab, then it exploded."

"It WHAT?!"

"He's fine, Ella," Poppy puts in. "This kind of accident is nothing for a hell of a potion master like himself. His lab has very good security wards; he only inhaled some toxic gas from the potion, which I have already detoxicated from his system. He is just sleeping because I gave him Dreamless Sleep. Basically, I try to get him to sleep every time he ends up here because he never sleeps enough otherwise. Problem is, you see, his little one insists on staying overnight here with him, despite my efforts to explain."

She eyes said little one disapprovingly. The little one fidgets and plays with the seam of his shirt.

"It is past curfew anyway, so can I stay, Madam Pomfrey?"

"For Merlin's sake, Mr Potter," Poppy exclaims, "you are as stubborn as your fathers. Both of them."

Ella swears that the boy beams, although he tries hard to suppress it from being showed.

"This is my last word. I am calling your Head of House. She will send someone here to escort you to your dorm. And you will see Severus tomorrow, safe and sound. Now give me a second. I'm sorry for the delay, Ella."

"It's okay Poppy. Look, how about me walking with you to your dorm, Harry? Then your Head of House won't need to send anyone here."

Harry looks incredibly disappointed. He probably has hoped that Ella would take his side and ask Poppy to let him stay.

"Maybe you can ask Minerva about this, Poppy? I'm leaving anyway; I can walk him there."

"All right, I will ask her. Thank you, Ella."

Ella smiles. The mediwitch retreats to her office.

"Come."

Ella guides the boy towards an empty corner of the infirmary, sits him down on a chair and crouches down to meet his eyes.

"You see, Madam Pomfrey says your dad is fine, he is only sleeping and will be well again tomorrow. So it's only like he is sleeping every night, just that tonight he is sleeping here instead of his quarters, and you will be sleeping in your dorm. Not really different than how it normally is, is it?"

"I just want to stay here with him," Harry says quietly. "He's always there with me when I'm sick."

That causes a violent tug at Ella's already tired and sleepy heart. She fights with all her remaining strength not to pull the child into a hug.

"So... you want that when he wakes up, first thing he sees is you being there with him, correct?" Ella asks gently.

Harry sadly nods.

"Sure he will be so happy about that, right?"

He nods again, his eyes now full of hope.

"But then if he realises that you have disobeyed Madam Pomfrey and your Head of House to stay with him, I doubt that he will still be happy."

His face immediately drops.

"You have homework to do still, I assume?"

"Yes," his voice falls quiet, his eyes studying the top of his shoes.

"Now let's imagine. Your dad wakes up and sees you staying here with him. He will be all happy. Then he finds out that you have disobeyed adults' instructions, neglected your homework and who knows, maybe also your sleep. Or your dad wakes up and doesn't see you but knows you are obeying adults' instructions and staying in your dorm or attending your classes where you belong, that you have done your homework properly, slept well and eaten well even if he has been sick and not watching over you. In which case will he be happier?"

The boy presses the fronts of his shoes against the floor and murmurs under his breaths:

"Why could he stay here with me and even had days off when I was sick?"

"Because he is an adult."

Ella recalls herself being pissed off by this same argument as a child. No, she wants to do a better job than the adults in her childhood.

"Adults can handle lack of sleep better because their bodies have fully grown and no longer developing like children's. They are also more skilled at handling their tasks even when the regular routines are disturbed because they have been practising it for a longer time than children. Therefore they are expected to take on more responsibilities than children and have more liberty in when to do what and where to stay. In other words, when your dad stays by your side when you are sick, his life is actually less affected than your life would be if you insist on staying here with him tonight. Do you see my point?"

Please, please do see my point, kid, she thought to herself. I'm not in the best mood ever to explain things to thirteen-year-olds.

Harry neither replies nor moves.

"I suppose now we will walk you to your dorm, where you will do homework, then go to bed and sleep well, so that tomorrow your dad will wake up to see a happy boy, shall we?"

She stands up, and Harry follows. She lets out a secret sigh of relief.

"Poppy, we are leaving," she announces to the office door.

"Very well," Poppy steps out, holding three vials in her hands. "I informed Minerva that you will escort him to the Gryffindor dorm. And here is your potion. One vial per night, three nights in a row, then take a break to see if your sleep pattern has stabilised. If not, see me for a further checkup."

"Thanks, Poppy. And good night."

"Thanks, good night to you too, Ella. And goodbye, Mr Potter," she eyes the boy again, waiting to see his reaction.

"Goodbye, Madam Pomfrey," he replies, unhappy but obeying.

Leaving the infirmary, Ella walks with Harry in silence along the deserted, dimly lighted corridors. When they have made half of the way, she asks:

"How has your week been?"

"It's been good, professor. How about yours?"

"More tiring than I expected," Ella smiles softly. "But interesting."

"Can I visit you at weekend?"

Harry then gasps, as if realising he has said something he shouldn't have.

"I mean... well, I know you must be busy now... I'm sorry..."

"I have been busy indeed. Therefore I suppose I deserve a little talk over a cup of tea with you at weekend."

He beams.

"Come on Friday evening after dinner or Saturday morning after breakfast."

"Thank you, professor!" he continues beaming from one ear to another and starts skipping beside Ella.

She chuckles. It seems teachers are bound to growing immature grey hair due to the excessive amount of problems they have to solve daily, but they are also bound to eternal youth because honestly who can grow old with these little creatures surrounding them all their life?


	7. Chapter 7 - The first weekend

CHAPTER 7

 **THE FIRST WEEKEND**

It seems that the first thing Harry does the next morning is to run all the way back to the infirmary to check on his dad because then they show up in the Great Hall for breakfast at the same time. Said dad looks perfectly his normal self despite a little slower movements. He takes the seat on the other side of Minerva.

"Are you legally released or have you sneaked out as usual?" Minerva asks.

"Legally released. This time," he answers blankly.

"Are you sure you can already teach?"

"I don't see why not."

Ella smirks at her breakfast. Now that he is sick, he is finally capable of being a normal human and not glaring at everyone or speaking with silky sarcasm all the time, isn't he?

Three minutes into the breakfast, Snape starts to cough into his handkerchief. Loudly.

"Are you sure you haven't sneaked out?" Minerva asks worriedly.

"Sure," he answers, too taken by the coughing to add any attitude to his speech. "I think my airway is still a little irritated. Will be fine by lunchtime."

That's wrong. At lunchtime, he coughs even more badly, probably the consequence of abusing his vulnerable airway the whole morning. And Väinämöinen only knows why he and Ella have ended up on two sides of Minerva yet again.

Ella hesitantly puts the small package she has brought from her quarters on the table. After a few seconds of contemplation, she pushes it cross Minerva, towards him.

"Professor Snape."

The man pauses in between his coughs, registers the package and then eyes Ella with a questioning look.

"It looks like candy, but it is condensed virgin extract of medical herbs. Specifically made for calming irritated airways. And before you ask, yes, it is a muggle product. From a Pacific island. I hope it will help with your coughing."

Now it actually feels weird that he is only looking and not glaring. Well, he is being a normal human being at the time being after all.

An eternity later, said human being finally speaks up:

"Thank you, Professor Virtanen."

Only so that poor little Harry won't be too worried about his dad, mind you.

o0o

"Professor?"

As if he has been waiting somewhere near the staff table, Harry shows up all of a sudden to catch Ella at the end of dinner time in the Great Hall.

"Hello, Harry. Are you coming today or tomorrow morning?"

"Can I... May I come tomorrow morning, professor?" he asks timidly.

"As I have told you, yes, of course, you can," Ella smiles.

"May I... uhm... bring my friends too? I mean... They want to meet you out of class too. Only two of them. They are my best friends. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, also Gryffindors like me."

Ella chuckles. They are not scanning identification at the airport's border control, are they?

"Sure, Harry. Any of your friends, and anytime."

"Thank you, professor," he beams.

"See you tomorrow then?"

"Yes, see you tomorrow."

As a result of that, Ella ends up spending the Friday evening in Minerva's quarters. The deputy headmistress has offered to discuss and share her experience in classroom management with Ella, and so they are doing over a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"You took notes?," Miverva asks with surprise when Ella pulls out her pile of notes on questions and unsolved problems she has collected throughout the first week.

Ella blinks:

"Yes, of course. Otherwise, I can't remember. It's a little difficult for me to keep my mind organized while shifting between different groups of students several times a day. I need more time to get accustomed to it, I suppose."

"Yes, it's a common problem for those who have been working in other professions before becoming a teacher. Your mind has to break its flow into little shifts and play different little roles during the course of one day. At some point when you start to cover all the grade levels, you will find yourself thinking with an eleven-year-old mind for one hour and then a seventeen-year-old mind the next hour. It might be challenging but it will become automatic after a while."

"I see."

Ella deliberately takes a lot of notes as the conversation goes. She gladly feels like an ethnographer on a field trip again, two weeks after throwing herself into Hogwarts as a professor.

As the conversation over professional issues concludes, Ella's eyes move to Minerva and meet a ridiculous look. She slightly frowns. What makes the deputy headmistress seem so sad? Sure they couldn't have touched anything sensitive while discussing merely students and classes and such things, or could they?

"Minerva?"

The old witch is slightly taken aback when she realizes that Ella does notice. Her eyes study Ella for a few more moments before she sighs:

"You remind me very much of a former student."

Her voice is as quiet as the ghost of a long-lost memory. Ella looks her in the eyes and softly smiles.

"I look like her?"

Minerva shakes her head:

"Not really. She had red hair and green eyes. But there is something about you that always makes me think of her. I don't know what."

The word "had" tells Ella there is something wrong about this. And she doesn't have to wait long to have the confirmation.

"If she had lived... who knows, she could probably have become a professor too."

Ella registers the visible pain on the face of the ever business-meaning deputy headmistress. She remains quiet but expresses through her eyes that she is listening.

"She has passed. In the last war. Twenty-one years old."

Ella gasps.

"I trust you are informed about the war we had here in Britain in the 70s - 80s?"

"Yes," Ella answers. "There were reports on the Finnish news. But I was still too young back then so I know about it but don't remember much the details."

Minerva nods:

"I see."

"Was she from your House?"

"Yes, she was. And she was the Head Girl. Her background is opposite to yours - she was a muggle-born witch."

"I am very sorry, Minerva."

The old witch sighs once more before hiding herself behind a sip of her tea:

"I'm sorry for the emotionality, Ella."

o0o

"Dad won't let me touch the candy you gave him," Harry reports sulkily, and Ella wonders since when he has been sulking to her.

"Because it is not candy, young man. It is supposed to work as medication. Which means you are not supposed to use it when your airway is not irritated."

Said young man continues to sulk nevertheless. Ella shakes her head amusedly while serving tea to the three children on her sofa.

"I like your class, professor," Ron Weasley says with a smile. "I mentioned you when I wrote home and my dad said he knows you. Well, I mean he knows your name because he has read a lot of your work."

"Really?" Ella suppresses a proud grin.

"Yeah... My dad likes muggles. No, he doesn't like muggles. He is passionate about muggles."

"I see."

"I have read your work too," Hermione Granger enthusiastically puts in. "I have just subscribed to the _Policies and Social Justice_ journal."

Taken by surprise, Ella raises an eyebrow:

"You subscribe to _Policies and Social Justice_?"

"Yes, professor. I have seen your name. You are a column writer," the girl beams.

"I am impressed that you do read that journal and even notice my name."

"Actually when I heard your name, it rang a bell. I remembered having seen it somewhere, so I browsed the library again and realized that I cited your article in my essay for History of Magic last year. That article you co-authored with Dr Tristan Flandin."

"I am impressed again that you cited our article for your second-year essay, Miss Granger."

The girl grins from one ear to another.

"Are you still writing for the journal, professor? When I checked the latest issue available in the library, you were still named a column writer."

"Yes, I still am one of its column writers. But are you serious you have subscribed for it?"

"Well… I know I won't understand everything but I think I will learn a lot reading it regularly."

Ella nods in approval and admits to herself for the third time that she is impressed.

"I have skimmed through all of your articles that I found in the library. You have travelled a lot for your research, " the girl continues, and it is written all over her face that she would like to hear stories.

"Yes, that's true," Ella smiles again.

"Where have you been to, professor?" Ron asks curiously. "My brother also travels a lot for his work. He says it's tiring but it's cool."

That pushes the right button. Ella brightens up and goes to her study to retrieve the world map. She opens it on the carpet of her living room and indicates to the children the places she has marked.

"I keep this map in my possession to occasionally make myself feel proud," she grins. "Quite many places I have set foot in, as you can see."

"Wicked!," Harry exclaims. "You have gone everywhere!"

"Far from 'everywhere', I'm afraid. But yes, I have travelled a lot. And your brother is right, Ron. It's exhausting most of the time but it's cool."

Now she has three pairs of excited eyes expecting stories from her. So she starts:

"On one of my field trips..."

Ella doesn't know it is only the beginning. In no time she ends up having little visitors every Saturday morning, starting with Harry's friends and then extending to many other students. She is the only professor who offers open casual weekend visits to students. She has a lot of "In Finland" and "On one of my field trips" stories to tell. And last but absolutely not least, she has a grand amount of sweets collected from one side of the world to another, stocked up well enough to cater for a school full of children for the good nine months they stay together.

But that is what will happen a while later. Today, before the children leave for lunch, she gives each of them a package of candy.

"Low sugar ginseng candy from Korea. Share it with your friends and have fun. And Harry, this is so that you don't envy your dad," she adds with amusement. "Don't eat too much at once though, the lot of you."

Ella watches the trio skipping away, their laughter still hanging in the air of her living room.


	8. Chapter 8 - Two sides of a coin

CHAPTER 8

 **TWO SIDES OF A COIN**

"Ella?"

Minerva's voice pulls her young colleague out of whatever she has been immersed in since the very beginning of their meeting. Slightly startled, Ella awkwardly shifts in her seat and drops the tip of her pen back down to the notepad - which has remained empty. She is just not in the right mood today, or this week for that matter.

"May I ask what it is that concerns you?"

Ella lets out a quiet sigh, still having no idea what she should do, or say. It has been occupying her mind the whole week, and as time goes by, instead of fading away, it escalates.

This is the last thing in the world she wants to get herself into. The only relation she wants to have with Snape is her minding her own business and him minding his. Period.

Yet Snape doesn't live on his own on an isolated island, which at the peak of her fury Ella sincerely wished he did. She was stricken and then has been unexpectedly haunted by the sight of the terrified thirteen year old boy whose only mistake is messing up his potions too often, which results in, as she later found out, verbal abuse constantly falling upon him on a weekly basis, for all the years he has been at Hogwarts. The scene she witnessed in the staffroom that day, the horrible words she heard with her own ears Snape deliver in front of everyone - her, Remus and all his classmates - inflated her anger to an extent that broke its own record. It took Ella every bit of her self-control to refrain from following Snape, cornering him and giving him a good piece of her mind. That wouldn't have worked, however, and she knew it.

The problem, the BIG problem, is that NO ONE, in authority or otherwise, has ever tackled the problem, or, perhaps, considered it a problem, to begin with. An even BIGGER problem is that the boy's family think he deserves it, which has never been tackled either. The short laughter bursting out when the boy's boggart took the form of Snape only to end up being dressed into grandma clothes offered a bit of relief, but far from curing the mess forming in her mind.

Ella has an urge to yell at everyone from the top to the bottom of this school who have been keeping a blind eye on this, including Minerva - in fact, especially Minerva, who is supposed to be responsible for the Gryffindors' well-being. But after striking her hair to all directions, she must admit that yelling would hardly work. Or would it?

Väinämöinen only knows. One thing Ella knows, however, is that it wouldn't work for Snape, which makes the idea completely pointless, not to mention the risk of counter effect. At the end of the day, it would again be the poor boy who has to bear all the consequences. She has to think. Even though she is entirely at loss of what to think.

Abuse of power, the forgotten vulnerable, half-hearted defence and support - all those things Ella has been discussing and stating opinions about for years, making money from that even. Why does it turn out to be so difficult to handle in this smaller context, where only one abusive teacher, one thirteen-year-old boy and a bunch of ignorant adults are at play? It causes her headache. By this Saturday evening, her mind barely has space for anything else to enter. In a nutshell, it is driving her insane.

"It's the issue between Sn... Professor Snape and Mr Longbottom."

The words slip out, and right that moment Ella knows she has shot the bullet. Now there is no way back. She closes her eyes for a few seconds to register that fact meanwhile Minerva falls into dead silence.

"What... issue?"

The Gryffindor Head of House is apparently caught off guard. Ella frowns. Could she have been truly and totally unaware of such a thing that has been happening in public for a good two years? Ella's wrath is again triggered.

"It is not a secret, Minerva. I saw and heard it myself, in front of Remus, in front of other students. And I have found out it was not a single incident, rather it has become a sort of bloody routine in Potion class! Professor Snape freely and openly belittled Neville as if there were nothing wrong about that. Has anyone ever bothered to tell him he is not supposed to do that? Or do we consider verbal abuse not a thing? The boy is not merely scared, Minerva. He is terrified. And, I bet, traumatised as well. What did he do to deserve that? I have asked the kids - all of them said the only thing he ever did wrong is failing to brew proper potions. And no one has ever seen the connection between that and the fact that he has been subject to Professor Snape's verbal abuse since day one at this school?"

Now the two women are staring at each other. Ella can't believe it. Have all of her efforts to keep her composure and plan proper steps to take just collapsed in one minute? Moreover, Väinämöinen help her, has she just sort of half yelled at the Head of Gryffindor, the deputy headmistress, the experienced teacher triple her age?

Surprisingly, when Minerva finally seems to have figured out what is going on, she looks relieved. Relieved?

"Well, I see. I thought you were mentioning... another thing."

"Another thing?"

What "another thing" could be even worse than that? In a split second, in the midst of her confusion, it crosses her mind. This is a boarding school. But for Väinämöinen's sake, this is Hogwarts! Seriously?!

"I assume we are thinking of the same thing," Minerva says assuringly. "No, it has never happened in the history... well, the recorded history, of Hogwarts. But of course, we know it does happen here and there so we ought to be cautious. I am glad the issue we are talking about is not that."

Now it's Ella who lets out a sigh of relief. But well, no, she is not glad.

"I'm sorry for my rant, Minerva. Well, I know I just started at Hogwarts three weeks ago, and there are many things I need to learn still, and I don't want to talk about other teachers behind their backs. But Neville... I just can't help feeling bad for him. I don't understand why Professor Snape would do that. Sure he is not a terribly sociable person and there is nothing wrong about that, but being so abusive towards a child? A student? Constantly and publicly? I don't understand. And why are we letting it happen, not once but repeatedly?"

Minerva sighs:

"First of all, I know this will anger you further but Severus is like that not only to Mr Longbottom. He is like that to almost all students, especially Gryffindors. And yes, I have talked to him, Albus has talked fo him, but he still has not got it. It's easier to change a regime than to change a personality, indeed..."

"But other than that he simply gets away with treating almost all students that way? And why especially Gryffindors?"

Now Minerva looks like she doesn't know what to do with Ella. Ella starts to feel creepy.

"Albus believes unpleasant teachers do play a role in preparing students for life. On the other hand, apart from that problem of his, Severus is a very competent and responsible teacher. No other professors in Hogwarts history have ever claimed the position at the age of twenty-one like he did and succeeded to the extent he does. No other professors in Hogwarts history have become a Head of House before even reaching thirty and again succeeded to the extent he does. He is flawed, indeed, but at the same time, he is special. We have been trying to help him with the flaws... well, now that you bring it up, I must admit we have not really followed through with it... I know it is hard to believe but deep down Severus doesn't have the desire to hurt anyone. And yes, we all know he ends up doing that anyway."

Miverva shrugs before continuing:

"It's true that Severus has been... extra strict with Mr Longbottom. I have talked to him specifically about that a few times. He has been sort of avoiding it. I believe he has also been struggling with the constraint himself, but I don't know why, and he wouldn't share."

"Whatever it is," Ella says, deeply bothered, "letting a child be abused is a too expensive price to pay in exchange for anything, Minerva. Not even one child, leave alone almost all students."

"I know. But honestly you can shoot unforgivables at him all you want and he still cannot change his way overnight. I have known Severus since he was a timid first year arriving at this castle's doorstep for the first time. If we want his good side to be around, we have got to bear the other side of him too. Moreover, I don't think there will be serious damage... You always have a good chance of running into even more unpleasant people anywhere, anytime. When the children proceed to upper years, they would simply get used to it."

"I see," Ella surrenders. So that is it. She will have to do it herself.

The last drop of Ella's energy is officially squeezed out as she says goodbye and leaves Minerva's quarters. She needs to have a good night's sleep and pray that she will magically know what to do when she wakes up tomorrow morning. Bringing it up in a staff meeting? No, that would just make the situation worse. Convincing Neville's grandmother to raise her voice? No, that's impractical. Encouraging and training students to stand up to him? That is technically fair but wouldn't sit well with the co-worker relationship. Putting the case on Policies and Social Justice, or worse, the Daily Prophet? That feels amazingly satisfying but no, perhaps he does not deserve that... yet. Filing a case of child abuse and suing him to court? Well, that might be a bit too much...

"Ouch!"

Ella falls back after bumping into something like a brick wall on her way, but a hand catches her elbow in midair and pulls her back to her feet. Before her brain manages to work out anything, said hand briskly releases the grip and she realises it is not a brick wall.

"Are you all right?"

The deep voice that poses the question sounds so gentle that Ella suspects it is someone else in disguise.

"I... am fine. Sorry," she murmured to the dark figure towering her, feeling like that stormy afternoon in Spinner's End is repeating itself. Why does she always have to get her stupidity displayed in front of this insufferable man? She hopes against hopes that her flushing is not visible in the dark.

While Ella is still standing dumbstruck, gentle hands have picked up her things from the floor and are handing them back to her. Yes, handing, not shoving. Who is this and what has he done with Severus Snape?

"Th... thank you."

Ella looks up at Snape; as her eyes meet his, she sees something very different, something like a flick of warmth and spirit that has been absent from this very pair of eyes all the time she has known him. What is strange, though, is that it lasts only a split second before he regains his customary scowl.

"You are welcome. I have to do my patrol."

As if I were purposefully stopping you from whatever you are doing?, Ella mutters to herself with annoyance. Suppressing a snort, she steps aside to clear his way without another word.

"Goodbye then," Snape coldly delivers the line and walks away as though to brush Ella off his life as quickly as possible.


	9. Chapter 9 - Remus Lupin

**Author's note**

 _Dear readers,_

 _Thank you very much for dropping by and leaving your opinions and inspiration. I hope you enjoy. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished. Always ;)_

CHAPTER 9

 **REMUS LUPIN**

"Good morning, Ella."

Ella looks up from the homework she is grading to find Remus standing at her open classroom door. The autumn wind striking through his sandy hair and the fresh morning sunlight adds a considerable amount of healthy look to the ever quiet and tired young professor. She smiles back:

"Morning, Remus. You have errands to run up here?"

"Not really," he replies. "I didn't see you at breakfast as usual, so I thought I might just drop by..."

"I'm fine. I was just too lazy this morning so I had breakfast here. Would you like a cup of tea?"

As Ella stands up, Remus makes a gesture to stop her:

"No, I'm sorry I interrupted you. Please carry on with your work, I'm leaving."

"Oh. Okay. If you have things to do, I won't keep you. But if it's because of me, then please do come in. I'm planning to take a break anyway. It's Sunday after all."

"Then," Remus beams, "how about having that cup of tea down in my quaters? I'm expecting a super short visit there, and I believe I have fine tea to serve."

"Very well," Ella smiles and makes her way to the door.

They walk side by side along the deserted corridor. Ella is glad she has decided to get out of her quarters. The day is extraordinarily beautiful. Over the Quidditch pitch, a team is practicing. Gryffindors, as she can tell from their blowing uniform.

"Those young ladies and gentlemen seem to be enjoying themselves," Remus remarks as his eyes narrow to look through the sunlight. "Is Quidditch popular in Finland?"

"I guess yes," Ella shrugs. "But I think the Finns are more into ice hockey. Do you know ice hockey?"

Remus frowns, making a show of thinking hard.

"The Muggle sport?"

"Originally so. But we have made the magical version, where the ball is manipulated by wands."

"That sounds like an interesting scene to watch."

"Indeed. I think it is idi... _funny_ by the look. But yeah, I think we are more into that than Quidditch."

"I see."

As they arrive at Remus' quarters on the first floor, he briefly introduces to Ella his collection of magical creatures, which his students are going to deal with at some point. The memory of the boggart Snape comes back; Ella is an inch away from laughing the hell out of the stress her mind is bearing. Luckily, Remus disappears into the kitchen and leaves her alone to compose herself while admiring the menacing little beasts glowing in glass aquaria, iron cages and locked up wooden trunks.

The moment the two cups of tea hit the table, someone knocks the door.

"Ah, he is here. Please enter!," Remus raises his voice.

Of all people, it just has to be Snape who walks in, holding a smoking goblet in his hand. His eyes move from Remus to Ella, then to the tea, and then back to Remus. Still embarrassed by the incident yesterday evening, Ella remains quiet and hopes that he will simply leave after getting the "super short visit" done.

"Thank you very much, Severus," Remus nods while receiving the goblet. "Would you like a cup of Sunday morning tea?"

Snape answers with a glare... well, a half glare, as if Remus were an enemy displaying pretending and sarcastic hospitality. Or perhaps he is only being Snape. Ella wonders when she will finally get accustomed to his way, if she ever does.

"No, thank you. There is a full cauldron of this should you need more."

"I see. Thanks again, Severus."

"You are welcome."

Without another word, he leaves. Remus turns to Ella, slightly raising the goblet now smoking heavily in his hand:

"Would you mind if I take a few seconds to bottom this up?"

"No, of course not. Please go ahead."

Ella can tell by the look on Remus' face that the thing is not exactly tasty. The vision of "a full cauldron of this" seems discouraging.

Seeing the curious look on Ella's face, Remus explains:

"I'm not feeling very well recently. I'm very lucky to have Severus brew this for me. Not all potioneers are capable of this. He is one of the few who are."

"I see."

Everyone seems to regard Snape as a genius of sort, at least in his expertise of potions. Well, he does look like a skillful potioneer. And a problematic teacher. Ella mentally snorts at that. She still has a thing to do with him.

"So how are things thus far?," Remus asks while lowering himself into the armchair. "Are you enjoying Hogwarts?"

"For the most part, I do. Teaching is a little tiring though."

"Yeah, it is. Especially when we are new."

"Have you ever worked as a teacher before?"

"No. Have you?"

"No, I haven't either. But you didn't look like a newbie. You know, that day when you brought your class to the staffroom and I was there."

"I'm new to teaching but definitely not new to this place," Remus softly smiles and dreamily looks around his living room, briefly pausing at the window. "Hogwarts was my home for the seven most important years of my life. And now I get to return after all these years. I'm at home again."

"I see. It must feel nice."

"Indeed. It does."

"When did you attend school here?"

"The 70s. The warring time. I graduated in 1978, at the peak of the war."

"It was a hard time, was it? I mean, you embarked on adult life during such a time."

"It was, in a way. Me and my friends, we didn't have many options. But not having many options was good in another way. We came out of school, went straight into the rank, then straight to battle. There was not much time for questioning."

"You fought?"

Ella drops her jaw in admiration. Eighteen years old, and they went straight from school to battle?

Remus' voice falls quiet, his eyes darken as if they are flooded in the wake of bad memories:

"We did. Many generations of Hogwarts did during that time. It was quite sad. A civil war, in essence. One day we were classmates, the next day we found ourselves on two sides of a heated battle, totally by our choice. Some chose one way, others chose the other way. And just like that we applied the lessons we used to share at school trying to take down each other. All these years after the war it is still haunting me how stupid the whole thing was."

"I see."

As Ella is thinking how to switch to a lighter topic, some one knocks on the door again.

"Please come in," Remus answers.

The door slips open to reveal a certain Gryffindor in Quidditch uniform, his hair impossibly messy, much messier than usual. He seems to have been running until losing his breath.

"Remus, is my dad here?"

"No," Remus replies. "He dropped by a while ago but he left shortly after that. Something urgent? Can I help you?"

"No," Harry shakes his head while regaining his breath, "nothing urgent. I just want to ask him something."

"Then why not wait until lunch time? You will see him in the Great Hall anyway."

"Yeah... I will. Oh, hello, Professor," Harry says shyly when he suddenly realizes Remus is not alone in the room.

"Hello, Harry," Ella smiles.

"Uhm... I will leave then. See you later."

"See you, lad."

When the boy has left, Remus turns to Ella:

"We have a sort of after-school relationship," he explains. "Harry's father and godfather are my best friends. Harry talks a lot about you, by the way."

"Me?," Ella blinks.

"Yes. Not as Mr Potter to Professor Lupin, but as little Harry to uncle Remus. He says you are cool and... you know, all the stuffs."

Ella smiles:

"The kids tell me the same about you. They love your class. They say it's nice to have classes where they get to move around and do a little of exciting wandwaving instead of sitting still looking at a book."

Remus giggles:

"Yeah, I know. Teenagers, always bouncing off the wall. They need something to do to vent their energy."

"You understand them well."

"I hope I do."

Suddenly, a flick of sadness... (or sorrow?) crosses the man's expression, which he quickly conceals.

"Well, it's already lunchtime. Do you plan to have lunch in the Great Hall?"

"Yes, I do."

"How about going there together?"

And so they walk there together, earning numerous curious looks from students in the process. Ella doesn't care much; it is just natural. What is unnatural, however, is another look coming from a fellow professor.

Snape has never shot exactly pleasant looks at Remus and Merlin knows why, but the sight of Ella being in close distance with Remus seems to be provoking in him something quite extreme. He is not simply bothered or disturbed; he looks as though he were disgusted and deeply angered.

It rubs Ella the wrong way and only makes Snape even less likable. But soon enough, she goes from annoyance to worries.

Snape can be many things but he is not insane. He has also proved to be quite good at minding his own business. He has never appeared to care at all who is hanging out with whom, when, where and how. What can it be that is causing dismay to be written all over his face all of a sudden?

Ella has not survived all those years travelling on field trips from one side of the world to the other by skipping small details or lacking caution. If anything, she senses from Snape's expression and the lack of similar expression in all others around that there might very well be something she is yet unaware of. What's more, it seems to be something Snape wants to scream to her face, but for some reasons, he can't.

That puts Ella on alarmed mode. That evening, after dinner, when she notices Snape rushing behind Remus out of the Great Hall, she decides to follow.

Remus is caught off guard the moment he enters the first dark corridor on the way back to his quarters. The giant shadow of Snape and his cloak towers him. Ella can almost hear him holding his breath while the deep, silky voice delivers cold threats:

"Better be careful, Lupin. Be very careful. Should you ever let loose of your promise again, I might just accidentally let slip..."

"Please don't," Remus pleads. "I was just... I didn't think..."

"Better start learning how to _think_ , then. You don't want me as you enemy, Lupin. This is my first and only warning. Should you ever let loose of your promise again, and _I_ am the one who make the judgement, I assure you, you will not like the consequences. And do _not_ for a moment think that Albus Dumbledore can save your neck this time. Just so you know, if I am forced to confront Dumbledore, so I will do."

With that Snape walks away, his cloak billowing violently. Once he has disappeared into the darkness, Remus regains his breath but still leans against the wall behind his back, almost collapsing under an invisible weight. That same moment, Hogwarts ceases to be a safe place for Ella.


	10. Chapter 10 - The matter of blood

**Author's note**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy. Your reviews are welcome and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 10

 **THE MATTER OF BLOOD**

 _Dear Professor,_

 _Please excuse Mr Draco Malfoy of Slytherin from class today as he had an accident and is now under care in the infirmary._

 _P. Pomfrey_

As the house elf who brought the note to Ella pops away, the class of third year Gryffindors and Slytherins arrive at her door. She asks the kid nearest to her:

"What happened to Mr Malfoy?"

"He was attacked by the hippogriff, ma'am," the kid answers.

That is immediately followed by a wave of exclamations and mutters and thinking-out-loud, which, when put together, basically means that said hippogriff was the subject of study in Care of Magical Creatures class just before Muggle Studies class, and it attacked the Malfoy boy for reasons that the present Gryffindors and Slytherins don't agree upon. They also don't agree upon the severity of Malfoy's current condition, which worries Ella to no end.

As soon as her last class of the day is over, she rushes to the infirmary. Her heart jumps when she sees the backs of Snape's cloak and a blond man's robes towering over one of the beds. Poppy is standing on the other side of that bed; they are talking and Poppy doesn't seem relaxed at all.

"If the headmaster permits, Severus," the man says in a smooth, classy voice, "I would like to take him to St Mungo for a more thorough examination. I'm not sure as to when he will be fit to attend school again. How very unfortunate for him to have such a traumatic experience in class, right under the watch of a teacher..."

"I believe I do have the authority to give that permission." Snape replies, "If you can come to my office to sign the form, after that he may leave with you."

A moment of silence falls between them before the smooth, classy voice is heard again:

"You can see he is still in pain, Professor Snape. Can't we excuse all the unnecessary delays..."

"I apologize for the inconvenience, Lucius," Snape interrupts, "but I can't issue the permission unless a parent signs the form and it must be done in my office."

The man sighs with overt disdain:

"Fine, then."

He and Snape turn on their heels and register Ella's presence at the infirmary door. Snape's eyes narrow in surprise for a split second before he greets:

"Professor Virtanen."

"Professor Snape," Ella replies.

The other man's eyes narrow too when he studies her in a... well, not so polite manner. She holds out her right hand:

"Good afternoon, sir. I am Ella Virtanen, professor of Muggle Studies."

The situation goes incredibly awkward when the man forms a slight, also classy, frown upon Ella, his eyes move in slow motion from her face to her hand and then all the way back. Ella is confused. He doesn't seem to mind this particular "unnecessary delay".

"So you are the new sq... 'wizard-born muggle', so to say, professor?"

"Yes, sir," Ella answers, her hand still stuck in midair, having no idea what it is supposed to do.

"Pleasure, Professor," he says with another sigh of disdain. "Now if you don't mind, Professor Snape and I have an urgent business to attend to."

Without another word and without the basic pleasantry of waiting for Ella's reply, he walks past her as if she were a random decorative object standing on his way. Snape follows him with a secret glare behind his back.

Ella quickly shakes it off her mind and heads towards the bed. Malfoy is sitting, leaning against the headboard with a mortified expression on his face.

"How are you, Mr Malfoy?"

"I thought Madam Pomfrey sent you a note, professor?"

"Mr Malfoy!" Poppy warns.

"She did," Ella says softly, trying to ease the tension. "That's why I come to see if you are okay."

The boy seems taken aback for a moment before starting to complain:

"I'm not 'okay', ma'am. That beast wanted to kill me! I don't know if I can ever move my arm again!"

With that he rubs up and down his right arm in frustration. There are no visible blood ot wounds, but his face is still as white as a sheet. That's imaginable - the poor kid was attacked by a hippogriff, of all things.

Ella sits down on the chair next to his bed and asks in a comforting voice:

"Your friends told me different versions of the story - but what exactly happened? How did it hurt you?"

"It sliced my arm open!"

"With its talons?"

The boy grudgingly nods.

"It won't be that bad," Ella looks him in the eyes. "I was wounded by a hippogriff's talons too. I was younger than you. It hurt and bled a lot but once treated, it healed quickly. Hippogriffs' blood does not carry any curse, so usually there won't be complications. I believe your arm will be the same again in no time."

"That's what I told him too," Poppy puts in. "You see, Mr Malfoy, your arm will be fine again soon. In fact, as I said, I think it is fine now. The pain you feel is just echo and it's not supposed to last much longer. I could have given you a dose of pain relief but since your father wants to take you to further examination, we can't have that now. But it will go away soon, I assure you."

"The wound has been healed, I assume?," Ella asks, eyeing his arm.

"Yes, but it still hurts," he murmurs. Then he eyes Ella curiously. "You were attacked by a hippogriff too?"

"Yes," Ella nods. "My father worked with them. I read about them in a book and once when I followed him to work, I deemed it interesting to try and greet one of them by myself. I did what the book said, but accidentally blinked while bowing to it. It sliced my arms open too - both arms."

She holds out her arms and smiles:

"But as you can see, they have been working perfectly well ever since. I believe your arm will be okay too. Hippogriffs are strong and proud and a little bad-tempered, but their blood is clean and generally doesn't cause infection."

"But it might not work the same way for me. Your blood is different from mine."

Both Ella's and Poppy's eyes open wide. Ella is still dumbstruck when he adds:

"I'm a wizard. You are not a witch."

Poppy's eyes darken. Ella lets out a soft laugh:

"It's not technically blood, Mr Malfoy. 'Blood' is only a metaphor. What makes you have magic and me not is the magic core. Your magic core is active, mine is muted. It has to do with genetic mutation, not blood. And please correct me if I'm wrong, Poppy, but it has almost no business to do with healing wounds from hippogriffs."

"Professor Virtanen is right, Mr Malfoy," Poppy says. "Muggle and wizarding medicine are interchangable. We are all humans who submit to the same laws and principles in healing."

The infirmary door slides open and walk in the two men who left a while ago. The smooth, classy voice approaches the bed:

"We may go now, Draco. Can you walk, or shall I order an emergency transfer?"

"There's no need, Father," the boy flushes. "I can walk."

With that he awkwardly drops his feet to the floor. His father grabs his arm to stand him up.

"May we use your floo connection to St Mungo, Madam Promfrey?"

"Yes, sir, if you deem it necessary," Poppy answers grudgingly.

The blond man smirks and guides his son towards the fireplace at the other end of the infirmary:

"Thank you Madam Pomfrey. And thank you, Professor Snape."

"I hope you will get better soon, Draco," says Snape.

In a blink, Malfoy and his father disappear into the fireplace. Poppy seems to be greatly annoyed:

"It's bloody high time someone tell him being a member of the school board doesn't mean he owns this school and can treat everyone here like his house elves. Look, Ella came to visit his son and he couldn't so much as say goodbye! What kind manner is he teaching his son that way?"

Snape sighs, and before Ella can even realize, the words slip out of her mouth:

"He is probably not comfortable with the fact that I am a squib."

Naturally, that sends all of them into dead silence. Ella curses herself furiously.

"Professor Virtanen," Snape looks her in the eyes, his voice more serious than she has ever heard, "may I ask if Mr Draco Malfoy has ever displayed inappropriate attitude in your class with regards to... one's magical status?"

Ella is taken by surprise. She didn't expect to bring this up under this circumstance, and definitely didn't expect this reaction either, shape or form.

"He has his opinions, which I encourage him, as well as all students, to express," she replies. "He is curious and sometimes confused too, of course, given his age. As for attitude, I believe all thirteen year olds possess enough attitudes to display in class daily. There have been times when I needed to correct him but nothing has gone out of the way."

Snape bears his eyes into hers as if to tear her speech apart to examine between the lines. When she gives a frown in response, he backs out:

"If Mr Malfoy or any Slytherin student chooses to display such attitude inappropriately, please inform me, Professor Virtanen, only if it is a small incident. That kind of attitude is unacceptable at Hogwarts and I need to make sure all Slytherins understand and remember that."

"I will, _if_ something goes out of the way," Ella says dryly.

o0o

"Well, that a parent happens to be an ignorant bigoted excuse for a wizard doesn't make you a bad teacher or less worthy member of society..."

"I know the theory, Tristan," Ella signs at the mirror floating in front of her.

"Thought it's good to recite and repeat sometimes though," the man in the mirror chuckles.

Ella reaches for the quilt at the other end of the sofa and wraps herself up. In the mirror, Tristan leans back in his armchair:

"It's cold there?"

"Just a little chilling. I'm Finnish anyway."

"That does help with the cold, I suppose," he grins. "I'm still adapting to the idea that you are now safely tucked away in a castle protected with ancient magic and served by house elves instead of wandering and getting lost God knows where."

Ella lazily rotates her tea cup without responding.

"How's life otherwise?"

"It's pretty okay. In fact I enjoy the most part."

"What is it like working with Albus Dumbledore?"

Ella sinks deep in thought. It shouldn't turn out to be an interesting question, but it does nevertheless.

"Now that you bring it up - I don't think I see Dumbledore working much."

Tristan raises an eyebrow.

"Things seem to be so well established that they basically run by themselves. I have seen Dumbledore listening to reports from the staffs - and he approved them most of the time. He gave a short and fairly technical speech at the school opening ceremony. Otherwise he is not very visible - I have not seen him making any bigger decisions than the time he invited me for the position. But anyway, I have not been here for that long after all."

"Interesting. Indeed," Tristan nods to himself.

"He leaves many problems not tackled though, and that annoys me to no end."

"Such as?"

"Such as verbal abuse upon students. Publicly, constantly, for a long time, I don't think no one notices, but indeed no one does anything. And, well, do you know why I didn't want to go into details when that Snape guy asked me about his students' attitude?"

"Why?"

"There are two other wizard-born muggles in the staff. One professor and a caretaker."

"Caretaker? Why would Hogwarts need a caretaker?"

" _That_ is precisely the point, Tristan. There are house elves for the housekeeping job. There are professors patrolling after curfew. Both of them do their tasks with _magic_. Yet we have this caretaker who polishes school cups and medals manually and patrols the corridors to check on _wizard_ and _witch_ students. Honestly, if anything, his only hope is to catch the first years at the beginning of the school year like this time, before they figure out what they can do with their wands. Once they have learnt how to handle their wands properly, do you think a muggle stands any chance?"

"No," Tristan replies absentmindedly.

"It's quite irritating to watch, I assure you. It looks as if he were there and were assigned those tasks for the sole purpose of showing him and others how meaningless his existence is. Well, that's just how I myself see it. But it is true that the kids pay him little to no respect, and he has been there and it has been that way for generations. No one seems to care the least. Yet Snape was making an issue out of a parent's failure to greet me properly? How very interesting it is. Why should I be treated differently? It's hypocritical. I detest it."

In the mirror, Tristan takes a large sip of water.

"How about the other professor?"

"She teaches an optional subject, and the most unpopular one for that matter. She rarely shows up in public except for at the meals. No one seems to care about her or her subject either, except for the few kids who are amazed at the art of fortune telling."

"Fortune telling?," Tristan's eyes open wide. "They teach fortune telling at Hogwarts?"

"It's supposed to be Divination," Ella sighs. "But yes, it is turned into a course of fortune telling here."

"I don't understand. What will the kids learn from fortune telling? It's not a skill. You are born a Seer or not a Seer, period."

"That brings us back to the first question - yes, you asked what it is like working with Dumbledore."

Tristan starts to rotate his glass of water too:

"This is terribly interesting, Ella, if we think about Dumbledore's activist career. Do you see what I mean?"

"I guess I do. But no, I don't think _he_ is hypocritical. Or anyone here for that matter. The situation is hypocritical, but people are not. They just fail to see the point, I suppose. I believe Dumbledore is sincere about his cause. He just... I would say he seems to fall into the category that we call 'oversized leaders'".

"You mean Dumbledore might be thinking too big to be able to observe and handle a secondary school very effectively?"

"I do think so," Ella nods. "But of course I am no one to judge Dumbledore's leadership."

"I am under the impression that we have been judging people's leadership professionally for ages?," Tristan twinkle his eyes.

"Yes, but this is different," Ella sighs.

"Because he is your own boss?"

"Probably."

"You know what, if you can gather information about the time he led the war, you can actually figure out something about his leadership style, his mindset, why he made the choices he made, and..."

"I have neither the time nor the right mood for that, sir," Ella cuts him short.

Tristan bursts into laughter:

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry for being die-hard. Anyway I suggest that you pretend to be Sleeping Beauty for a full eight hours; you will regain your right mood in the morning."

"Sleeping Beauty?," Ella laughs out loud too. "Are you kidding me, Mr Flandin?"

"I did say 'pretend' didn't I?"

Ella rubs her eyes while the laughter endures before it fades into a yawn.

"It's okay to put yourself before society sometimes, Ella," Tristan's voice suddenly turns serious. "I mean it's okay to accept the special treatment offered to you first, before working to make it equally available for all. That works too, and that doesn't mean you support inequality. You can - in fact, you should - fight for yourself too, with no less effort than you would for anyone else."

Ella curls into a ball under her quilt and watches the fireplace flames of both sides blur the face of the wavy-haired handsome Parisian gentleman.

"And I want you to know that you can call me any time for anything."

"You delivered that line already ten years ago."

"Yes, and by 'anything' I do mean anything, not only when you want to sue someone or when someone wants to sue you for that matter."

"I have just messed up your evening with my little self esteem issue, haven't I?," Ella chuckles.

"Yes, by 'anything' I mean your little self esteem issues too," Tristan smiles.

"When is your next trip to Europe?"

The smile disappears from his face in an instance.

"No work trip is scheduled yet. So if nothing changes, then Christmas."

He sighs. Ella asks quietly:

"Still the thing with your family?"

"The same thing as always. I can't understand my parents. What's wrong with naming my brother the Heir? He is perfectly fit and willing to take that on and I am perfectly happy to step down. We have been telling my parents that same thing for ages. Yet they still insist the opposite."

"Perhaps they find it difficult to understand you too. Like what's wrong with you being named the Heir for the sake of tradition."

Tristan rubs his forehead and messes up his hair in the process.

"That kid is a pureblood too, I assume?"

"Yes."

"You know," he sighs, "more often than not the pureblood rubbish is forced on children regardless of their will."

"I know. I don't blame him - or any kids for that matter. Well, not the adults either, I would say. Rubbish gets passed down consciously and unconsciously. Breaking out of the flow is not a trivial matter. You are a walking testimony for that, apparently."

"It's true."

"Well, I'm turning in. It's terribly late here."

"Go ahead. Good night."

"Good night."

The mirror clears out and safely lands on the mantle. Ella leaves for bed - perhaps sleeping is the answer for now, beauty or not.


	11. Chapter 11 - The wizard who flies

**Author's note**

 _Long time no updates! I hope you enjoy ;)_

CHAPTER 11

 **THE WIZARD WHO FLIES**

Ella is having a headache.

She has never been a fan of big crowds. Especially not a big crowd of teens and preteens cheering at the top of their lungs meanwhile another teen is broadcasting commentaries also at the top of his lungs with the assistance of magic. And especially not when on top of all that is the crazy wind whipping against the stands of the Quidditch pitch.

But she considers it a basic pleasantry to attend the school's Quidditch matches. Or at least the first one. It's called integration. Moreover, she needs some exposure to sunshine and fresh air outside the castle walls whether she likes it or not.

Distracted by the noisy and messy surroundings and her own headache, she fails to notice it until Snape has already settled down beside her for a while. Gladly, he is ignoring her as usual and only sitting there like a statue, quietly looking out to the pitch. For the sake of finding something to occupy her thoughts with, Ella starts wondering which side Snape is on in this match, his House or his son's House.

For some reason that Poppy claimed she had no idea about, Malfoy's arm is still in bandage, the bandage that Poppy herself found no need to put on in the first place. When Ella asked, Malfoy said it still hurt him badly, which he then used as an excuse to slack off quite deliberately in Muggle Studies class. Ella sighed at that but decided to let him off easy – it was only one class anyway, and the poor kid had been attacked by a bloody hippogriff of all things, and in addition to that his peers seemed to be questioning the condition of his arm. She can straighten him up again when he has been properly healed and had his mood improved.

Speaking of mood, Ella feels bad for the boy even more when it comes to the match at hand. He has to drop out from the first match of the season and watch his biggest rival – his Head of House's son – play. She doesn't know Malfoy's skills on a broom, but the substitute Seeker of Slytherin today is apparently no equal to Harry.

Suddenly, Harry abruptly steers his broom upward and makes a giant vertical circle in midair…

The next second, the whole audience explode in a collective scream. Ella's hand moves to cover her mouth. The boy has fallen off his broom from a height double the height of the poles.

In the same second, she hears a violent sound tearing into the wind right from her side. A black figure has thrown himself off the stand and towards the falling boy. The scream falls into a breath-holding pause as said figure catches Harry a few feet from the ground and slowly alights.

Ella narrows her eyes to look through the sunshine. A break is announced and all players as well as Madam Hooch land around Harry and the black figure – his dad. The break takes a few minutes before the game resumes.

Snape returns to his seat, this time walking. As he sits down, Ella hears a very loud sigh of relief. Absentmindedly, his hand moves to the left of his chest, presumably to assist him in regaining his breath. Not until then does Ella realizes she has been doing the same. Just what could have happened if he hadn't reached the boy in time? Surely there must be some sort of safety measures since you don't have plenty of flying dads sitting around every day, even at Hogwarts. Ella has never seen with her own eyes any wizards or witches who can fly unsupported like that before, even though it is known to be possible.

Harry is now moving super slowly and not seeming to be actually seeking the snitch at all. Inevitably, he misses it and the Slytherin team wins. In the midst of hyper emotions and reactions usually found at the end of Quidditch matches, the boy lands right away and makes his way out, dragging the broom behind him. His dad also stands up immediately and storms out of the venue.

That afternoon, only two third of the Gryffindor trio pay Ella the customary Saturday visit.

"Where's Harry?," she blinks.

The two kids eye each other before muttering the answer:

"He can't come today, ma'am. He is grounded."

Ella steps aside to let the kids in:

"Grounded?"

"He's in trouble because of that big move on the broom," Hermione explains. "Professor Snape warned him many times that he must not try those professional moves."

The girl throws herself onto the sofa and grabs her favorite pillow:

"So did I. But he didn't listen."

"I think he was just too excited," Ron shrugs.

"And almost killed himself because of his excitement? " Hermione raises her voice.

"Come on," Ron exclaims. "Do you really think no one could have cast a spell to catch him? People fall off their brooms all the time in Quidditch."

"Still," Ella puts in, "I agree with Hermione that he shouldn't have tried it. Where did he learn that move in the first place?"

"It's from a book I gave him for his birthday, ma'am," Hermione sighs. "I thought he would be happy enough just looking at them."

"I almost had a heart attack if I'm honest with myself, kids," Ella says as she sinks into her armchair. "So he is being grounded as punishment?"

"Yes, ma'am. Until Monday."

Ella almost has it slip out of her mouth that were it her who grounds the boy, it would be at least one week, not only one day and a half, but she successfully stops herself.

"Hopes that will help him give up the idea of trying professional moves by himself then. Hermione's right, he could have killed himself had it not been for Professor Snape's quick reaction."

The two kids suddenly fall silent and eye each other again.

"What's that?," Ella frowns.

"W…well," Hermione says timidly, "did you hear the rumor going around today, ma'am?"

"What rumor?"

"Well, that means it hasn't reached the teachers then…"

"What rumor?," Ella repeats impatiently.

"We… we are worried how Harry will take it when he is released on Monday. It will likely be a great shock…," Ron sighs.

"What shock?"

Hermione swallows before shooting Ella a serious look and answering quietly:

"The rumor is going around that Professor Snape was a Death Eater."

"Death what? Wait, you said Death Eater?"

"Yes, ma'am," the girl nods. "I have checked in the library. He indeed was one."

Hermione pulls out from her pocket a piece of old newspaper and opens it on the sofa table.

It is the front page of the Daily Prophet, an issue from November 1981. The page is covered by a large photo of, as the caption reads, newly arrested Death Eaters.

Even among several figures dressed in totally plain black like himself, Snape is not difficult to spot. The only movement that indicates he was alive is the blinks of his eyes, otherwise he was completely still, bearing his heavy loaded eyes into the camera, which in turn bear into the readers.

"But he was clear of all charges," Hermione continues, opening another page of another issue of the Daily Prophet. "Here, this is the report of his trial. Professor Dumbledore vouched for him, testifying that he had been working as a double agency for Professor Dumbledore. He had switched side before the fall of Voldemort."

Ella skims the second report, whose photo features the scene of the trial. Snape was seated in the middle of the chamber, locked to his chair by several rounds of iron chains. A shiver crawls down her spine.

"But he was a Death Eater. He did follow You-Know-Who. He only switched side later on," Ron puts in.

"Yes and that means he is not a Death Eater any more, Ron," Hermione frowns.

"Okay, I see," Ella lets out a sigh. "But it's apparently not unknown that he was a Death Eater. It was on the Daily Prophet. What is there to rumor about?"

"Well… the thing is… I think most of us haven't known it yet. I guess it has not been spoken of for a long time. And it's even worse that…"

Ella raises an eyebrow.

"People are saying he was not just an ordinary Death Eater. He must have been the right arm of Voldemort, otherwise Voldemort wouldn't have taught him to fly."

Ella raises the other eyebrow.

"People insist that only Voldemort could fly," Hermione opens her arms in annoyance. "Despite the fact that it is stated in the Encyclopedia of Magic, volume three, ninth edition that meanwhile unsupported flying is a rare skill, there have been several wizards and witches throughout the history who mastered it. It's not something unique to Voldemort."

"That's right," Ella nods. "Unsupported flying is an ancient skill and it is associated with the names of several wizards and witches apart from Voldemort – in fact I even didn't know that Voldemort was among them until you said it."

"But he was a Death Eater," Ron says, "he was a follower of You-Know-Who. It's likely he learnt it from You-Know-Who."

"And the point is,?" Ella shrugs. "Why is it important where he learnt that skill from?"

"I think people just want to make a fuss," Hermione complains. "Some even said it was dark magic. Complete nonsense."

"Indeed," Ella approves. "There is nothing dark about flying without a broom. That is not to mention the definition of 'dark magic' itself is controversial. But anyway, you are being concerned that this rumor will come as a shock to Harry? Doesn't he already know about it?"

The kids eye each other again.

"He has never talked about it," Ron says hesitantly.

Ella shrugs:

"But he might have known it. It's not something you would go around telling people, would you? He might have known it but just not talked about it. It's a thing of the past anyway."

Hermione sighs and they all drop their eyes to their tea cups. Ella slightly rubs her forehead with two fingers. Frankly speaking, she is struggling to digest the image of the young Death Eater staring at her from the paper. Her mind seems to be overloaded – it's shutting down her slightest attempt to reason.

"Are you okay, ma'am?," Hermione asks worriedly.

Ella opens her eyes, which she didn't realize that she had shut.

"I'm okay… Well, I think I'm a bit tired today. The wind, I guess," she slightly shakes her head while straightening up in her seat. "I'm afraid I need some rest, kids. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, ma'am, we'll let you rest," the girl stands up. "You look tired indeed."

"Sorry for kicking you out early today," Ella softly smiles. "Can I keep those papers, Hermione? They are duplicates, are they?"

"Yes, ma'am. I can make more duplicates from the copy in the library. I will shove the trial report in the faces of those stupid people who talk ill about Professor Snape."

Ron rolls his eyes:

"He talks ill to you almost every week, 'Mione!"

"This is for Harry."

Ella's tired eyes open wide as she watches the determination on the girl's face.

"I have never heard that Professor Snape talks ill to you. Every week?"

Hermione's eyes drop. After a short silence, she shrugs:

"He's like that to everyone."

"Not the Slytherins," Ron adds.

"Harry said he's hard on the Slytherins too, just not in public."

"What exactly did Professor Snape say to you, Hermione?," Ella asks quietly. Tiredness is eating into her voice, and she is struggling to keep herself from completely collapsing when she looks at the sadness written on the face of the thirteen-year-old.

"It's nothing, ma'am," Hermione answers without looking up.

"Fine," Ella sighs. "We will come back to this later. For now, my advice is you try to avoid getting engaged in conversations about the past of Professor Snape while unnecessary. The rumoring might fade away by itself if we avoid stirring it up."

"Malfoy will for sure throw it at Harry's face the minute he's released," Ron snorts.

Ella hits her forehead with her palm.

"I'm afraid there's little we can do about it. But when Harry's released and heard the rumor, if he needs to talk to someone and you think I can help, please bring him here."

Ella falls asleep right in her armchair as soon as the kids leave. She doesn't wake up until long after dinner time, eight o'clock in the evening. Once again she finds herself stuck in the irritating state between wellness and sickness.

After washing her face and taking a large glass of cold water, she feels a little better but still has no taste for dinner. Digging out the witch-style cloak that she hardly ever wears, she puts it on and leaves her quarters for a walk.

The freshness of the night wind and the spectacular view from the castle's third floor are no longer softening her nerves like they used to do. Looking out to the horizon, she realizes it has been a long time since the horizon felt that faraway.

She misses the world out there. She misses the endless trips. The horizon, her childhood dream and her adulthood destination. But now it's on the other side of the castle's boundaries, a thing somewhat off limits.

She did expect some uneasiness from adapting to this new life. Ten years of wandering, not something one can easily forget about overnight. But she didn't expect… this much.

She has started to feel like an encaged bird.

Ten years, she had been constantly moving. She met people. She worked with them, or even stayed with them, for a while, a short while or a long while, and then they parted. Whatever problems might have arisen, they didn't stay with her. She might spend endless nights discussing them with Tristan, doing research, phrasing them and editing them countless times before a proper article about them could go into the next issue of _Policies and Social Justice_. All that, but she didn't live among those problems. Much less having to try to solve them directly and on a personal scale.

It's not only about the brick walls. It's also about the community. She had not been living physically in the same group of people for this long during the entire past decade. There is no space to vent. There is no chance to refresh.

Even the dim moonlight up there in the sky is now failing to turn her on. This Tristan would definitely call "serious cabin sickness. You've got to go out a bit. Can't professors go out at weekend or something?". And blah blah blah…

It's just that the idea of going out for a drink alone at this point, for some reason, sounds just the same depressing. And vaguely somewhere at the back of her mind, she's afraid if she goes out of the castle in this mood she might never want to come back.

"Lumos."

Ella is startled by the silky voice suddenly vocalizing behind her. She briskly turns around to meet the familiar black pair of stone cold eyes.

"Professor Virtanen?"

"Professor Snape," she replies, feeling her heartbeats speeding up. The image on the front page of the old newspaper suddenly feels very lively... and intimidating.

"I thought it were a student wandering off after curfew. That's why the silent approach. I apologize."

Aren't Death Eaters and spies supposed to be nice in daylight and bad in darkness? Why is this one just the exact opposite?

"It's… fine. You are patrolling again?"

"I patrol every night."

"I see."

"Are you just going for a walk or do you need help with something?"

"Just a walk. Thank you."

"I see. Goodbye then."

Just as always, he briskly walks away, turning off the light on his wand tip after a few steps.

Ella opens her mouth and hurriedly follows him. But soon she shuts her mouth again and slows down her steps.

After all, it's not the most polite thing ever to casually tell someone that their students are rumoring about the dark part of their past and that she is afraid their son will not take it easy.

Ella sighs and shakes her head. All she wants to do now is to call Tristan and pour complaints over him that she is going to lose her mind and go crazy very soon.


	12. Chapter 12 - A guest from Harvard

CHAPTER 12

 **A GUEST FROM HARVARD**

"Still sleeping?"

"It's eight o'clock on Sunday morning!," Ell barks at the mirror and throws herself into the nearest armchair. "You'd better have an urgent matter, Flandin, which by the look of your face I highly doubt you do…"

"Does breakfast count as an urgent matter?," the man in the mirror grins. "Let me see…"

He turns his head around as if looking for something before coming back to the mirror:

"At the Three Broomsticks, perhaps?"

"Where the bloody hell is the Three Broomsticks? Where are you?"

The man moves the mirror away from his face to show Ella the background:

"In Hogsmeade, I believe."

"And what the bloody hell are you doing there?!," Ella barks again. "The breakfast they serve in Harvard doesn't meet your standards today?"

With an insufferably classy shrug, he slightly bow his head:

"I'm venturing to ask of you the honour for myself to invite you for a casual Sunday breakfast, ma'am…"

"Quit it right there," Ella hits her face with her palm. "You. Have. Just. Messed. Up. My. Sunday. Morning!"

"My apologies," he answers with another grin. "I'll be waiting in front of the Three Broomsticks. No need to wear make-up or dress fancy, I'm hungry for all I care. See you!"

The man winks and disappears from the mirror, leaving Ella terribly frustrated. She mutters complaints to herself all the way through her hurried morning routines. Rushing out of her quarters, she pauses for a moment before rushing back in. It would take at least fifteen more minutes to walk there, if her map is right (and it had better be). She just can't wait that long. Digging out the rarely used broomstick, she takes off from the third floor's balcony, heading against the sunlight towards what is supposed to be the direction of Hogsmeade.

Being touched no more than once a year doesn't cause the broomstick's quality to regress. It was the finest one on the market at the time it was purchased, several years ago, as a birthday gift for her from that irritating Frenchman who is now waiting for her in Hogsmeade.

As smoothly as a bird flying with its own wings, Ella lands in the middle of the village's main road. It's still deserted. In no more than one minute Ella's sight captures the brown figure standing a few houses away.

"Brown hair, brown eyes, brown robes, brown cloak… Just why am I always around men dressed in plain colors?," Ella continues the muttering for the sake of venting her grumpiness.

She is not sure what is brighter, the sunshine or the man's smile. As usual, he is wrapped in a fine brown cloak pulled together by a tiny golden pin bearing the emblem of the Flandin House. His wavy hair is literally moving like waves in the wind.

"Give me breakfast. Right now. For your sins."

He man bursts into laughter.

"My pleasure, ma'am. After you," he makes another classy gesture.

Five minutes later, settled in a cozy corner of the Three Broomsticks and filled with half of a decent breakfast, Ella finally asks in a voice that doesn't sound like she were going to murder him:

"So were you indeed disappointed about the breakfast served in Harvard today or are you going to tell me what typhoon has brought you here all of a sudden?"

"Sheer randomness," the man gently flips his fringe backwards. "And I sort of miss you. Not gonna lie."

"We have not met for like… how many years?"

"Three years, I believe."

"Right. Three years, and it just happens to be today that you suddenly miss me?"

"Well, that's humanly possible," he shrugs and smiles behind the sip of coffee he is taking.

Ella studies him for a few seconds before asking with an I-know-it-all voice:

"You are running away from something."

The smile fades away from the man's face. He quietly puts down his cup, his eyes dropped to the empty plate of the finished breakfast.

"My quarters is being flooded with letters," he sighs. "Hopes it'll stop flowing in by this evening. In the meantime I'm not intrigued by the idea of having owls dropping parchments on my head all night long. Probably all day long too."

"Did you miss a flood of deadlines and anger you boss?"

"No. I'm a good employee," he grins. A sad grin.

Ella raises an eyebrow:

"From your parents."

That meets with a loud sigh. The man starts playing with his empty cup.

"They are insisting that I step up and host the dinners of this Christmas as the new Head of House. After I ignored the first few letters, they are now bombarding me with that flood. Letters and owls. A lot of owls."

Ella sighs. They are always stuck whenever it comes to this topic. An endless battle between a rebellious Heir and his conservative parents.

The pub is getting crowded. Ella looks around and realizes this is the kids' waited Hogsmeade weekend.

"Professor Virtanen!"

Ella turns to the direction of the familiar voice and finds Hermione and Ron approaching.

"Morning, kids," she lazily smiles.

As the two arrive at her table and notice that she is not alone, they pause to stare at her company. She introduces:

"Hermione and Ron, my students. Mr Tristan Flandin, my friend."

Tristan holds out his hand:

"Nice to meet you, Hermione and Ron."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Ron shakes the hand with a smile.

"N…nice to meet you, sir," Hermione flushes as she returns to Tristan's handshake. "W…ell… please pardon me, sir, but are you Dr Tristan Flandin, professor of Minority Rights at Harvard Law Academy?"

Tristan's eyes twinkle in surprise:

"Yes, I am. May I ask to what I owe this pleasure of being recognized over here in Britain?"

That pushes the girl's shyness yet further.

"I… I read your articles on Policies and Social Justice. You usually co-author with Professor Virtanen. I saw your image on the author list."

"You read Policies and Social Justice?," Tristan raises both of his eyebrows.

"Yes, sir. I like your articles a lot. May I…"

She swallows and timidly pulls out a notebook and a quill from her pocket:

"May I… have your signature, sir? It's a great pleasure to meet you today."

Tristan lets out a soft laugh, looking as if he had just been promoted straight to the chancellor's chair.

"My pleasure too, Hermione," he receives the quill and quickly scratches his signature an names into the notebook.

"Thank you, sir," the girl beams.

As the kids walk away, Tristan switches the topic:

"Care to have a nice lunch in London?"

"Seriously," Ella rolls her eyes, "I didn't know you can someday travel all the way from the United States to Britain only for food."

"And a nice company," he winks.

"Quit your flatteries. I know it all to well," Ella shoots him a fake glare.

"Hello, Ella."

They both look up. The greeting came from way too high above their heads.

"Oh… morning, Rubeus."

"Nice to see you here. I've started to worry. I didn't see you at the meals yesterday."

"I was lazy so I ate in my quarters," Ella smiles.

"I see. Oh, hello, Mr…?"

"Flandin, sir," Tristan shakes Rubeus's huge hand.

"Glad to meet you, Mr Flandin. I'm Hagrid, Ella's colleague."

"Glad to meet you, Professor Hagrid."

The giant man beams from one ear to another.

"The kids are making a real crowd here," the pub owner says as she drops by Ella's table. "There is a bar for adults inside here if you would like some privacy…"

Ella eyes Tristan:

"So…?"

"Let's stay here for some more time," he replies. "It's still early for lunch anyway."

"Fine."

They all walk into an even more cozy space behind a divider. No other guests are there yet.

Once they have all ordered their drinks, the pub owner asks Rubeus:

"So how is it going?"

Rubeus makes a loud sigh.

"They summon me to a court hearing next week."

"Court hearing? How come it is going that far?"

"Well, Lucius Malfoy have connections in the Ministry, you see… He seems determined to get to the end of it…"

"But how's the boy's injury?"

"Still healing."

Ella frowns. In three seconds, she decides to ask.

"Pardon me, Rubeus. But is it about Mr Malfoy and the hippogriff accident?"

"Yes, yes," he nods, sadness written all over his face. "The headmaster assured me all will be fine, but…"

Ella's frown grows deeper. A court hearing for a classroom accident. Connections in the Ministry. This doesn't sound good. In fact it sounds even worse when Ella recalls Lucius Malfoy's look of disdain over her.

"Have you got support? From a lawyer, perhaps?"

"A lawyer? No, I can't afford a lawyer."

"May I ask what exactly happened?," Tristan cuts in.

All eyes are directed to him. He explains:

"I'm a lawyer, technically. I might be able to help, if you permit."

He then listens attentively while Rubeus tells the story. The fact that he has not pulled out his quill and notebook gives Ella a relief. It means the case is simple.

"The European Advocacy of Magical Creature Rights can and will offer support, I believe. They have law professionals specialized in these matters. Perhaps you can write them."

With brisk movements he pulls out his address book, makes a copy from one of its page and hands it over to Rubeus.

"Th… thank you very much, Mr Flandin," Rubeus blinks.

"I hope it will end well," Tristan nods.

"I believe it will," Ella puts in. "I don't think they will make a big deal out of this. Some complaints about your classroom management maybe, but there shouldn't be serious legal issues."

"I hope so," Rubeus sighs, squeezing the piece of parchment in his hand.

Ella turns to Tristan:

"Are we still having that nice lunch in London?"

And so Tristan removes his cloak and puts Muggle glamour on himself before they apparate to London. They spend the rest of the day in London, eating at a nice Muggle restaurant and then wandering the streets of Muggle London, doing the exact one thing they always do every time they meet. Laughing. Laughing together, laughing the hell out of the universe.

"I hope you have had your lessons for tomorrow properly prepared," Tristan says when they sits in a park watching the sunset.

"Not a word," Ella replies. "But never mind. I can invent something simple and quick. Like fast food."

"You are a really bad teacher," he raises his finger.

"A lazy teacher doesn't equal a bad teacher."

"You had better not transfer that laziness to the kids," he chuckles.

"Let's go home though. You have to teach tomorrow too, I assume?"

"Sure I do. Fine, let's go home. I hope the flood in my quarters has ceased by now."

"Vanish all of them and then have a good night's sleep."

"Exactly my intention."

When they are back at the gate of Hogwarts, it has got totally dark.

"Are you staying here for Christmas too?," he asks.

"Yes, I will. Finally have a chance to spend Christmas somewhere other than my parents' home, for a change."

"Great."

Ella turns around to bear her look into the pair of twinkling brown eyes:

"If things go too badly at Christmas and you need to run away again, you can always find me here. And yes, eight o'clock in the morning is okay too as long as you give me breakfast."

They share the last piece of laughter of the day before parting. Ella mounts her broom and heads towards the third floor's balcony in a silky move. Her love for Hogwarts has revived.


	13. Chapter 13 - The Boy Who Lived

_Dear readers,_

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy. Your reviews are welcome and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 13

 **THE BOY WHO LIVED**

 _"Attention, professors and staffs. Mr Harry James Potter of Gryffindor has disappeared and cannot be found in either his dormitory or Professor Snape's quarters. Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall and I are searching the castle as well as the school grounds. Please inform me if you are aware of anything related to Mr Potter's whereabouts or if you would like to join the search. Thank you."_

Ella stares at the dissolving silver phoenix, trying to digest the message.

Not bothering to change the ink color she is using to grade homework, she violently scratches a plain red reply on a small piece of parchment:

 _Headmaster,_

 _I will observe the school grounds and air from my quarters on the third floor with professional binoculars._

 _Ella V._

"Ara?"

"Yes, Professor?"

Ella hands the note to the house elf who has just popped in:

"Please bring this to the headmaster. Urgent."

"Yes, Professor," the elf bows and disappears.

Ella briskly steps out of her quarters, tearing her look into the darkness of the deserted corridor. She can hear the portraits moving and whispering to each other; they are probably also on the search.

She raises the binoculars to her eyes. Two spots of Lumos Maxima are rushing out of the castle; one of them heads towards the Forbidden Forest and the other one towards Hogsmeade.

Ella struggles to keep her concentration, hearing her heart pounding crazily. What do you mean a student has just disappeared at Hogwarts?! Three minutes ago she still thought it were impossible. Simply impossible.

An accident? What kind of accident could have happened out of the professors' sight?

Kidnap? No, no way. Hogwarts is the safest place…

The pounding goes straight to Ella's temples as she recalls the confrontation between Snape and Remus a few weeks ago. She still hasn't figured out the meaning of their exchange.

Remus.

Remus…

He has "an after school relationship" with Harry.

And he has something, some sort of secret, that Snape threatened to "let slip"…

Ella almost gets choked by her own breath. No, that thought is crazy. Just crazy.

Or it might be because of the rumour.

She curses herself furiously. If this is because Harry couldn't cope with that rumour, and if something happens to the boy as a result, she will never be able to forgive herself.

She saw Malfoy pestering Harry all day long today although she couldn't hear their conversations. She did contemplate asking Harry to stay after class or come after dinner so that she can make sure he is not in distress, but only because he looked quite all right during her class, she deemed it unnecessary.

Her hands squeeze the binoculars tightly; all of her pulses are now pounding in the same rhythm. She scans every inch of the space her binoculars can reach.

Please, Harry, please be okay…

Hogwarts. Safety. It might turn out to be nothing more than a myth.

Rubeus has been searching around his hut for a while; now he is holding his lamp up high and starts to walk along the boundaries of the Forbidden Forest.

She doesn't know how much time has passed, but the partial moon seems to have reached its position for tonight. Misshaped in an ugly way and tainted by too many dark clouds surrounding it, the only thing it does is to make the night seem more restless… and Hogwarts seem more unsafe.

Ella's heart jumps when a dark figure rockets upward from the Forbidden Forest, only to disappoint her immediately. On the lens of her binoculars, Snape is still alone, hanging in midair, sweeping his wand around in despair. She has never seen Snape's expression in this state. He looks as though he would go completely mad very soon, if he is not already mad.

Well, who wouldn't?

A minute later, he dives back into the forest. Her veins swell up with more worries. Based on the little amount of knowledge she has gained about that forest thus far, even grown wizards are not supposed to go in there alone at late night. A flying wizard sure has certain advantages, but that doesn't make him immortal…

Rubeus' lamp fluctuates as he abruptly ceases his steps on the way back to his hut. Ella turns the binoculars towards him and adjusts them to their maximum capacity.

She gasps.

Harry. He has found Harry. They have found Harry!

The boy throws himself to Rubeus and buries his face in the giant tummy. Rubbing the boy's back with one hand, Rubeus points his pink umbrella to the sky with the other hand and shoots up a beam of light that then explodes into a shower of red sparkles. A second later, the silver phoenix delivers to Ella the headmaster's new message:

 _"Attention, professors and staffs. Mr Potter has been found. Thank you for your help and please now be dismissed from the search. Severus and Minerva, please come to Hagrid's hut immediately."_

Lowering her binoculars, Ella rubs her chest to assist the stabilization of her heartbeats. Snape rockets up from the forest once more and without delay shoots himself straight to the giant hut near its boundaries. One Lumos Maxima exits the castle and heads to the same direction.

Ella rushes back into her quarters. Shoving the binoculars back to their place in her luggage, she grabs her broomstick and takes off from the balcony, tearing into the creepy mass of darkness mixed with the half-hearted moonlight.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME YOU LIAR!"

The yell startles Ella the moment she lands in front of Hagrid's hut. Before she can even realizes what is going on, another yell strikes back:

"I AM NOT A LIAR!"

The tension in the air sweeps away every bit of politeness and manners in Ella's being. She allows herself to push the door open and steps in.

"YOU LIED! YOU'VE BEEN LYING ALL THIS TIME! YOU FOLLOWED HIM! YOU SERVED THE MURDERER WHO KILLED MY PARENTS!"

Harry is standing with Rubeus' comforting hands on his shoulders, flushing to the tops of his ears and shooting deadly looks at Snape. Ella lets out a sigh of relief as she realizes the boy seems safe and sound.

"Harry," Albus' raises his voice.

"AND YOU SAID SHE WAS YOUR BEST FRIEND! YOU KILLED HER! LIAR!"

"SHUT UP!"

Snape roars. The hut starts to shake violently as if an earthquake has just broken out. In a brisk and sharp movement, Albus' hand reaches and grabs the front of his elbow:

"Severus. Please leave."

Snape doesn't move; his breaths become audible. The door behind Ella is pushed open again and Minerva steps in.

"What…"

"Severus. Please leave," Albus repeats with a higher tone. "I will take care of him from here."

"Accidental magic?," Minerva whispers.

"Minerva?," Albus turns to her, "Could you please accompany Severus back to the castle? I will take care of Mr Potter from here."

"I can walk by myself!," Snape exclaims, and with a violent swish of his cloak, he storms out of the hut, into the darkness.

Albus turns around to register those present in the room. With a soft sigh, he says calmly:

"Thank you for your assistance, Professors. Now I wish to have a word with Mr Potter in my office. And I will send him back to his dormitory as soon as we finish, Minerva."

Minerva nods with a quiet sigh. Albus gestures to Harry:

"Let's go, Harry."

Hesitantly, the boy obeys. Leaving the comfort of Rubeus' hands, he walks clumsily towards the headmaster, tears rolling down his cheeks and his shoulders shaking.

Ella quietly watches them walk away, feeling nervousness and confusion slowly eating up her sanity until she hears Minerva's voice:

"Where did you find him, Rubeus? What exactly happened?"

That meets with a very loud sigh from up high above their heads.

"Silly boy… He heard from the other kids about… you know, Severus' past. That he used to be a Death Eater. It seems Severus has never talked to him about it before, so he was shocked… didn't know what to do, and decided to go off and wander the school grounds... under the Invisibility Cloak. Thanks Merlin when he saw me passing by, it finally crossed his mind that he could actually talk to me about it… silly boy!"

"Invisibility Cloak?," Ella frowns. "Are students even allowed to keep an invisibility cloak in their belongings?"

"As far as I am informed Severus has been keeping it for him," Minerva replies. "But apparently he has managed to sneak it away. You said he heard about… Severus' past from other kids?"

"Yes," Rubeus sighs again. "That's what I managed to get from him before you all arrived… and he turned to yelling at Severus…"

Ella rubs her forehead. In the midst of the thousand unrecognizable questions storming wildly in her mind, a particular one slips out:

"He said… Did he mean Voldemort killed his parents?"

She hears a soft gasp before all eyes fall upon her and they slide into dead silence.

Ella blinks. Did she just ask a wrong question?

Rubeus clears his throat. Minerva follows him before eyeing Ella curiously:

"You didn't know that?"

"Know what? No, I didn't. I know Harry used to be in an orphanage but I didn't know the story of his parents."

Minerva swallows.

"So you didn't know. He is The Boy Who Lived."

Ella's eyes open wide:

"The Boy Who Lived? Harry?"

"You know about the fall of You-Know-Who in 1981, don't you?"

"Of course I know, Minerva," Ella trails off. "I just didn't know it's Harry. I had no idea indeed. I didn't remember the name of The Boy Who Lived."

They slide into dead silence again while Ella's mind works hard trying to wrap itself around the news.

"But why are the kids suddenly talking about Severus' past, I wonder?," Minerva sighs.

"Because they saw Professor Snape fly unsupported at the Quidditch match," Ella replies. "They associated unsupported flying to Voldemort and rumored around that Professor Snape must have learnt it from him as a high ranking Death Eater."

She finds herself being the target of the other two pairs of eyes once more.

"Harry's best friends, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, came to me and expressed their concern about how that rumor might affect Harry once he heard it. I had no idea about his parents. I had no idea how much of a shock it would be for him. I underestimated the situation. Had I known better, I could have talked to him before things went wrong…," Ella sighs.

"Well," Rubeus says softly, "what happened has happened. The headmaster is handling it now. He will be fine."

They quietly nod to each other before dismissing themselves. Despite the storm of questions in her mind, Ella doesn't say a word all the way she walks with Minerva back to the castle. This is just too much to process at once.

 **o0o**

The next day, after dinner, Ella spends half an hour in the library collecting all what she can find about The Boy Who Lived. She passes by the corridor near Remus' quarters on the way back to hers.

"You have to listen, Harry. Severus is not what you think he is!"

Ella frowns. Instinctively, she slides into the dark corner nearby. Remus is standing at his door trying to talk to an emotional Harry.

"I don't want to hear it!," the boy snaps and turns on his heels, half walking, half running away.

"Harry!," Remus calls, only to be ignored.

"Thank you very much, Lupin."

Ella is startled. Snape's voice has just crawled in from Merlin knows where. His tall form slowly approaches Remus, as intimidating as ever.

"Thank you very much. Can never see my life left undamaged, can you?"

"What are you talking about?," Remus replies with annoyance. "I was trying to tell him…"

Snape cuts him short, his voice unusually drawled:

"… that I am not what he thought I am? That I am a liar? How surprisingly unsurprising where that thought of him comes from. Your loyalty is beyond touching, Lupin. Can't stand it when the boy chooses to live with me over Black? Can't leave Potter's son in my care if you can help it? Can't. See. My. Bloody. Hell. Of. A. Life. Finally. Having. That. Little. Piece. Of. Peace? Not under your watch, right, Lupin?"

"You are speaking completely nonsense, Severus," Lupin barks. Something in the sound of his barking twists Ella's stomach. "I was trying to tell Harry…"

Snape ignores it, comes closer to Remus, towers over him and continues drawling:

"How much Potter must be proud of you. Laughing in his grave, I trust…"

"LEAVE JAMES OUT OF THIS!"

Remus is clearly losing control. His mouth opens up in an unusual and disturbing manner. A deep, inhuman sound escapes the back of his throat. Suddenly, he springs towards Snape…

In a split second, Ella throws herself in between them, causing Remus to be pushed back by an invisible force. Another inhuman roar escapes his throat and his eyes are flaming. He raises his hands to his chest while his whole being is visibly fueled with anger.

Ella's heart pounds furiously. Her legs start shaking. Gathering her last drop of composure, she pleads:

"Go inside, Remus. You understand me. Go inside. I will call help."

The man produces a softer roar and seems to be regaining his mind. The rage in his eyes slightly fades, making way for confusion.

"Please, Remus. Go inside, now. I will call help. You will be fine. Go inside!"

Remus starts to breathe heavily, his eyes bearing into Ella's with a mix of despair and hope. He backs away with clumsy movements and eventually closes himself behind the door.

"Ara?," Ella calls hurriedly.

The elf appears from thin air:

"Yes, Professor?"

"Can you seal this door? With magic?"

The elf eyes the door and looks back at Ella with confusion. Still breathless, she commands:

"Seal it. With the strongest magic you are capable of. This instant please, we don't have all day."

"Yes, Professor."

A yellow glow spreads from the elf's hands to the door and fades into it. Ella sighs with relief:

"Thank you. Now please go to the headmaster and inform him that we need his help down here. Urgent."

"Yes, Professor."

As the elf pops away, Ella turns around to check on Snape, who has been unusually quiet.

What she finds is, of course, Snape, leaning against the wall with barely any spirit in his eyes, his hand holding the wand so loosely it is just an inch from dropping down. In no time Ella figures out the reason – he is drunk. He is covered in the smell of alcohol.

"Are you okay?," she waves her hand in front of his eyes. "Know who I am?"

His dreamy eyes slowly moves to her face and after an extra long contemplation, he says quietly:

"Lily?"

Ella sighs. No hope.

Luckily, Albus has already shown up, quickly walking towards them:

"Ella? I heard that you need help?"

"Yes, Albus. Remus…"

She trails off. Where should she even start?

Taking a deep breath, she explains:

"I passed by and saw them – Remus and Snape – having an argument. Then Remus seemed to lose control, and I saw… I recognized abnormal signs in his behavior as he got angry. I was afraid their argument was going beyond only words, so I decided to interfere, and… Albus, I sincerely hope I am wrong, but I have reasons to believe Remus might be…"

Albus frowns. She swallows:

"… a werewolf."

Silence endures.

"I asked Ara to seal this door so that he wouldn't get out before you arrive."

Albus nods and asks as calmly as ever:

"May I ask what signs that he displayed have led you to that conclusion?"

"Well… I studied about werewolves in my ethnographer training. I can recognize them if I see them closely enough around the full moon. I recognized the signs... And moreover…"

Ella reaches for the object she wears around her neck and holds it up:

"This is a charm – I don't know what it's called, but I was told that by carrying it on my person, I can prevent werewolves from coming close to me. I have never been in a situation where it was needed before, but today when I put myself in between them as I saw Remus lose control, it worked. It pushed him away."

Albus studies the object and then turns to studying Ella herself.

"Did you tell him to go back into his quarters?"

Ella blinks:

"Yes, I did."

"And he followed?"

"He calmed down a bit when he saw me and heard me trying to convince him to go back in."

"I see."

Albus nods, his expression showing the busy work going on in his mind.

"Your quick response is very much appreciated, Ella. You have saved us from a lot of trouble."

Ella frowns at the headmaster:

"Did you know about it, Albus? About Remus' condition?"

"Yes, I did. May I ask you to see me in my office tomorrow morning, after breakfast, to discuss this further? Do you have classes to teach at that time?"

"No, I will have free periods until ten o'clock."

"Very well. See you then."

Not until now does Albus' attention go to Snape, who is still dreamy.

"Severus?"

"I think he is intoxicated," Ella explains.

Studying the drunk man for a moment, Albus sighs:

"Indeed he seems so. Could you please escort him back to his quarters?"

Ella mentally rolls her eyes, but she nods, fighting back a sigh:

"Yes, I can."

"Thank you very much, Ella. I will work with Remus for now. Oh, and Ella?"

"Yes, Albus?"

"May I ask you to keep this information about Remus to yourself until we have discussed it tomorrow?"

Ella pauses. Fear suddenly comes back to her, and doubt slowly emerges.

"As long as the safety of students and staffs is ensured," she eyes the headmaster.

"It is. I will personally see to it."

Ella nods quietly. The headmaster releases the charm on Remus' door and steps in. Another glow spreads, presumably to reseal it.

Shaking her head, Ella turns to Snape. He is now sliding down along the wall. She throws her hands to the air. The greatest annoyance of all annoyance. What did she do to deserve this?

"Professor Snape?," she says coldly, "Let's get back to your quarters."

The man makes no move.

The last drop of her patience finally drained out, Ella grabs his upper arm and with surprising strength stands him up. Walking to the corner where she dropped all her books and materials to rush to shielding him from Remus' rage, she picked them up while muttering about drunk men getting into arguments. Without further delay, her free hand grabs his upper arm again and starts dragging him along a path unknown to most students that teachers usually use when they don't want to be seen.

"You are impossible," she continues muttering to herself. "Is it even legal for Heads of House to get drunk during the term? You had better pray to Merlin your Slytherins wouldn't need you tonight. Or any student for that matter."

Snape quietly and obediently follows Ella all the way down to the dungeons while she keeps on muttering different topics around the mess they are in. Now she is not sure which life is more complicated, the ethnographer life or the teacher life. Maybe life just has to be complicated whichever way.

"You had better remember how to get in," she glares at Snape when they finally reaches his door, undetected by students. Or at least she believes so.

Absentmindedly, the man puts his hand on a spot on the door. A glow circles his hand and the door slides open.

Just as Ella thinks she has completed this unwanted task, Snape falls over right after crossing the doorstep. For the second time in one day she finds herself rushing at her maximum speed to rescuing the same man. Catching his upper arm and righting him on his feet, she drags him through his classroom, shoves his hand to the door at the end of it to get it open and continues dragging him to the nearest armchair she can spot in his living room. Dropping him in the chair, she briskly walks out, only to halt her steps as a soft, silky voice calls upon her:

"Lily?"

Ella doesn't understand why she would do that, but she turns around.

"I'm not Lily. I'm Virtanen. Just saying."

Snape sticks his eyes to her, looking as though he is pleading for something. From Lily, she assumes.

"Lily… I'm sorry."

As if there had not been enough surprise for today, Snape's face falls to his hands and his shoulders start shaking. Under Ella's witness, Snape, the feared boggart of students in all years, is sobbing.

Ella stands dumbstruck.

What is she even supposed to do?

A clock somewhere ticks away several seconds. A sentence from some book she has read crosses her mind.

 _"It's hard to see strong men break down."_

Hard indeed.

She sighs:

"Sober up soon, will you? The last thing your son needs now is a drunk dad."

Shaking her head, she turns around and walks out, not without another look back at the sobbing Snape.

Thankfully, there are no other surprises for the rest of the evening until an exhausted Ella finally hits her pillow. Opening the night read she had picked up from the library before encountering all that mess, she starts on the first page, ready to lull herself to sleep.

Life just has to be difficult. On the first page of _The Boy Who Lived_ , a name snaps at her face: _Lily Evans Potter_.


	14. Chapter 14 - The Alpha Charm

CHAPTER 14

 **THE ALPHA CHARM**

Hiding yet another yawn, Ella drags herself towards the headmaster's office. She hardly got any sleep last night.

Not surprising. You don't find out your colleague is a werewolf every day. Much less confronting him with bare hands, entrusting your entire life to a charm randomly given to you a decade ago at the other end of the world, which Merlin only knows would work or not. That, and all the disturbing pieces of information around Snape and Harry that have been recently revealed.

Lily Potter was a muggle-born witch. A muggle-born witch who committed full time to fighting Voldemort. How could she possibly have a best friend on the other side, a Death Eater?

The more Ella thinks about it, the creepier it becomes. It's like Tristan being her best friend and at the same time being a pureblood supremacist seeking to rid the wizarding society of wizard-born muggles. If he becomes that supremacist, it naturally means he is no longer her friend. If they are friends, it means he can't be that supremacist in any shape or form.

She has studied the report of Snape's trial several times, trying to make sense of it. No, he didn't start off as a spy for Albus Dumbledore. He _switched_ side. Which means he had been totally on the other side prior to that.

It would make sense if his long lasting friendship with Lily Potter started after he switched to her side. But no, they had been friends since childhood. Harry mentioned that fact quite frequently.

It becomes even creepier when she recalls the boy's yelling feat at Rubeus' hut. Something about Snape killing his mother. She desperately buried her face in the pillow when the thought crossed her mind, praying that it was just a stretchy notion typically come up with by a young teen.

"Astrochocolates."

The gargoyle moves to let Ella in. Albus is waiting at his desk, as calm as ever. He studies her through his crescent lens as she sits down, his eyes comfortingly twinkling.

With the classical commanding style of three slow claps of his hands, he orders tea for them both. It has been more than a year since Ella found herself in this position. Despite her new job, despite the first name basis they have been on, there is still an unnamable distance between them. An ordinary magickless half-blood and the greatest wizard of his time.

"How are you today, Ella?," he asks softly.

"I'm fine. How is Remus?"

"He is safe."

Albus rests his chin on his interlocked fingers and continues bearing his look on Ella's face, as if trying to capture her thoughts. On a normal day she would just wait for him. But today is not a normal day. She is tired, sleep-deprived and filled with worries and confusion. Patience is not even something to talk about.

"Seeing that this is the second full moon of this term, I believe measures have been carefully put in place to ensure the safety of both Remus and everyone else in the castle when his condition manifests. To make it clear, I totally support his presence and work in the school. I was surprise to find out his condition but I am not surprised at all to find out your decision, Albus. I have been amazed by your stance on minorities' rights since a young age. If I am to think of anyone who would go to this length to offer an afflicted person an chance for a normal life, you will definitely be the first on the list."

She pauses to take a breath. The headmaster is still bearing his look at her, listening attentively.

"I am concerned however about what happened yesterday. I am not an expert on Lycanthropy, but as far as I am informed, he showed signs of sensitiveness to early transformation. Which is entirely dangerous if not kept in rigid control while he lives among others, especially when most of them are children. It is great danger to even grown witches and wizards. I can't imagine what could have happened yesterday if I had not been there by sheer dumb luck. And what if I were there but hadn't been in possession of this charm, also by sheer dumb luck? What if the charm hadn't worked?"

Patiently waiting several moments to make sure her speech is temporarily finished, Albus calmly replies:

"We had not been aware of his sensitiveness to early transformation until yesterday. That is why measures had not been taken with regards to that. We were indeed fortunate to have you there in the right time and we owe you your courageous and quick reaction."

Ella sighs. This is not the best time for her ears to hear compliments.

"Yesterday's event has led to more safety measures being put in place. His personal house elf is now responsible for watching over him at all time in the one week before every full moon until he has gone through transformation. And it is permitted to restrain him with magic if a dangerous situation arises."

Ella feels a twist in her stomach. Much as it ensures the much needed safety for everyone, it sounds really bad when she thinks of the life Remus has to live.

"How many people in the castle are aware of his condition, Albus?"

The headmaster pauses for a moment. Ella insists:

"I need to know. I need to know who are informed and who are not in order to make decisions in case of emergency. I understand your hesitation, Albus, but I feel obliged to take part in ensuring the safety of students and staffs now that I have become aware of this. Not until yesterday did we learn about his sensitiveness to early transformation. Professor Snape could have paid the price had it not been for sheer dumb luck. There are hundreds of other potential complications of his condition, and that is to count only those which have been known to wizardkind thus far. How well are we prepared to deal with them? I would assume he has been on Wolfsbane, but is he having regular check-ups to control the potion's impact? Is his potion being revised and adjusted accordingly? Is there an emergency plan for us to follow if something goes wrong at some point?"

Ella can feel her expression going cold and hard. For the most part of her life, she comes across as cheerful and harmless. But she knows how dangerous she might look once she means business and the other parties fail to meet her standards of taking the matter seriously.

"Please have some tea, Ella."

Ella sighs loudly. No, she is in no mood for tea or any pleasantries for that matter.

"I assure you that the safety measures will be thoroughly revised and improved following yesterday's event. Do you trust me?"

The question hits Ella hard.

Albus Dumbledore was her childhood hero. No words can properly describe how much his advocacy for minorities' rights, her own rights, has empowered her to become who she is today. Somewhere in a little corner of a little town in a little country up in the far North, once upon a time, a little girl read his words and made a dream for herself.

It is hard to face that question and realize her trust for him, Albus Dumbledore, has been eroded, little by little, since she arrived in his staff and started living in his realm.

"Who are aware of his condition, Albus?"

That seems to hit him back. After a long silence, he sighs:

"If you insist. It is known to me, you, and Severus, who has been brewing the monthly Wolfsbane for him."

"How about Poppy?"

"Yes, she is aware of it too."

"And is she equipped with means to deal with an emergency should it arise?"

"I believe she is."

Ella fights back facepalming. No, Albus, it is not something you approach with belief. It's something you answer with a definite yes or no.

"So he has been getting Wolfsbane from Professor Snape. Does he have a personal health care professional working to ensure the stability of his condition?"

That meets with another long silence from the headmaster. Ella pauses. Maybe she is pushing it too far.

"Please rest assured that I am capable of managing the safety of both Remus and the school, Ella."

Fine… Ella nods with surrender. At the end of the day, he is the headmaster. She is not.

Albus leans back in his chair:

"May I ask, out of pure curiosity, about the charm you are carrying?"

He eyes the object on her neck. An object taking a shape she is unable to name.

"Yes, but I'm afraid I don't have much information about it either."

His eyes slightly narrow:

"You said it was given to you. May I asked which location did it come from?"

"Indochina," Ella replies. "It was given to me by an Indochinese hermit about ten years ago. I was on my graduation field trip."

"A hermit," Albus repeats. "One who lived in a forest, I assume."

"Yes."

"Under what circumstances did he or she decide to grant you this charm?"

"I have no idea," Ella shrugs. "Most Asian wizard hermits hardly talk. They only articulate what they deem extremely necessary and important. This hermit was a particularly difficult case. Many ethnographers senior to me had come and tried to communicate with him, but he didn't say a word to any of them. I was excited to travel for the first time out of the Continent, so I went there to give it a try. For some reason, unspoken of course, he did reply to me. I managed to collect data from him. On the third day of my stay, he granted me this charm, to my surprise. It's a big deal when a hermit grants someone his magic when pleaded, and so it was quite beyond explanation when he granted me a charm on his own accord."

"Did you discuss werewolves or anything along that line in your conversations?"

"No, which makes it even more surprising. He merely explained that it would keep werewolves from coming close to me or doing me harm, and that I should always keep it on my person. To be honest, I took his advice and put it here but have forgot about it ever since. Luckily it came back to my memory in time yesterday."

"Is that all what he told you about the charm's effects?"

"Yes. That's all."

"I see. Then again, you mentioned yesterday that you asked Remus to go back into his quarters, and he listened."

"I think he just calmed down and realized who I am and who he is. He hadn't transformed yet. He seemed to be still in his right mind."

"Or it could be another effect of the charm you might have not been aware of. That is if my guess rings true."

"Another effect?," Ella frowns.

"The Alpha Charm. To the best of my knowledge, I believe you are carrying the Alpha Charm… An extremely rare and sophisticated piece of magic."

"Alpha Charm?"

"It is a charmed developed by… exactly whom you got it from, hermits in Indochinese forests. Originally, it was developed to protect the forest hermits who often find themselves in close proxy to werewolf packs. Since most of the lines of hermits in Asia uphold the principle of not killing or harming lives, the charm must work in a way that ensure the safety of both sides… The solution they came up with is to grant the charm carrier the power similar to that of an Alpha. It means no werewolves can do harm to them under any circumstances. More importantly, the werewolves must obey their commands."

Ella's eyes open wide. As if she had not been exposed to enough shocking information during the past forty-eight hours, now she just has to learn that she has been carrying unspeakable power around her neck for ten years without a clue.

"Access to that power is however strictly limited. Very few hermits can cast the Alpha Charm. People who are qualified to carry it are even rarer. It requires an absolutely pure state of mind. Both the caster and the carrier must not have the slightest intention to harm werewolves under any circumstances, for any reason, in any way, be it actions, speech or thoughts. It is a special binding between werewolfkind and mankind. The charm was created with the approval and involvement of a real Alpha."

Ella remains silent to digest the lecture.

"It seems you have not been thoroughly informed about the charm," Albus gives her a twinkling look.

"Indeed… I knew nothing other than the fact that it keeps werewolves away from my person."

"I would imagine the hermit wanted to protect the purity of your mind. Of course your mind must be absolutely pure for you to be granted the charm in the first place, but knowing about the great power in your hands might result in the temptation to abuse that power, as it works for most human minds. Perhaps because you were young. Perhaps he was a Seer and he knew you won't need to know about that power in the situation involving werewolves that will arise to you, as what we find ourselves in at the moment."

Another long silence prevails as they sit still and eye each other.

"Now that you are informed about it, I trust you will use the power you are possessing to Remus' best interests… and of course those of everyone else too. And well, frankly speaking, if I were you I would be pretty proud of myself, Ella. As far as it is recorded, you are the only non-hermit qualified to carry the Alpha Charm in the past five hundred years."

Ella produces half a smile. She is in no mood for such trivial pride. With Remus' problems resolved, not thoroughly even, there are still other issues occupying her mind… The Boy Who Lived is next on the list.

She encounters Snape on her way out of Albus' office. Before she has time to open her mouth for a basic hello, he walks past her like a storm, completely ignoring her existence. She feels a twist in her stomach. How much of yesterday did he wake up to remember?


	15. Chapter 15 - Detention

**_Authour's note_**

 _Dear readers,_

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy. Your reviews are welcome and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 15

 **DETENTION**

"Mr Malfoy."

Ella shoots the blond boy a stern look. His arm has been out of bandage, but his classroom conduct continues to go downhill.

"Do you intend to study in this class, Mr Malfoy?"

The boy eyes Ella, almost forming a glare, but her own glare finishes it off before long.

"Professor?," he asks quietly.

"Answer my question. Do you intend to study in this class? Yes or no?"

Malfoy shuts his mouth, stares at her for a few seconds before dropping his eyes to the textbook.

"I expect an answer."

The whole class fall into dead silence.

"Look at me," Ella commands.

She has never seen Malfoy so small, so timid and so much like a child before. He slowly looks up to meet her eyes.

"I have given you several chances to change your way, Mr Malfoy. But now I am asking you to pick your choice. If you intend to study, you may stay in this class and you must do your work. If you have no intention whatsoever to study this subject, feel free to leave. The door is open. I am willing to explain to the headmaster and your parents that I grant you your wish."

A longer silence endures. All eyes in the room fall upon them.

"Well?"

The boy swallows.

"It's simple English, Mr Malfoy. Yes or no."

He swallows again.

"Y… yes, professor."

Ella sighs with relief:

"Fine. Get down to your work then. All of you, too."

In the midst of quills resuming their scratching on parchments and flipping book pages, Ella crouches down in front of Malfoy, which intimidates him further.

"So," she softens her voice. "where are you with the task? Okay, I see. What is the Muggle equivalent for magizoologists?"

Hesitantly, the boy opens his textbook to the page he is supposed to have already been on.

"Zoologists, Professor."

"Correct. And why the prefix 'magi'?"

"Uhm… because of the term 'magical creatures'."

"Exactly."

Ella studies the boy as he calmly writes down his answers. Thanks Merlin, he is getting back on track. He silently goes on with the next question.

"Careful, that word can be easily misspelled. E-th-no-gr-aph-ers. Good. Its wizarding equivalent?"

"Wizarding ethnographers."

"Correct. And why is it not 'magical ethnographer'?"

"It…," the boy scratches his head, "has to do with the society, not the magic."

"Excellent. You figure it out very fast."

Taken aback, he looks up again to meet a smiling professor, the one who just threatened to expel him from the class two minutes ago.

"Do you have any questions, or can you go on by yourself?"

"I can go on by myself, professor."

"Good."

Ella stands up and walks around to check on other students. Harry is totally quiet as he has been since that running-away evening, sticking his eyes to the worksheet and working with flawless dedication. She walks past him to place a hand on Hermione's shoulder. The girl wakes up, startled.

"Are you okay, Miss Granger?," Ella asks softly.

"I'm… fine, Professor. I'm sorry…," she murmurs.

The bell rings. Ella raises her voice:

"Remember your homework: A three-foot essay on the etymology of wizards' and Muggles' professions. Extra credits if you choose to do a little further research on the evolvement of ancient terms into what we are using today. Class dismissed."

Elbowing her way through the crowd of students, Ella arrives at the staffroom for the upcoming meeting. Following her, Minerva enters.

"Good afternoon, Professors," Minerva smiles. "May I ask you a favour? I have a student serving detention with me until the end of this week, but now I have some unexpected tasks coming up so my evenings are occupied. I would be grateful if some of you could take him for a few evenings…"

"Mr Potter, I assume?," Filius replies. "I can take him Friday evening."

"Thank you, Filius," Minerva says while jotting down on her parchment.

"Me, this evening," Ella says absentmindedly.

When she realizes all eyes have fallen upon her, she adds with a grin:

"It will be real punishment. I promise."

Everyone bursts into laughter. Minerva chuckles:

"I never said anything about you administering fake punishment. But good to know though. Thank you, Ella."

The door is pushed open in a rather violent manner. The laughter abruptly halts as Snape storms in. He proceeds immediately to his seat without looking at or greeting anyone.

So it's not only Ella who has been receiving his attitude from him. It's everyone.

The other professors quietly resumes their small talk, leaving Snape alone as he seems to wish. Ella can't help stealing a look at him. She wonders how the kids are coping with this. His expression scares even her.

Following Snape, Remus comes in, exchanging a timid smile with everyone before dropping himself to his seat and sticking his eyes to the table. Minerva pauses for a few seconds and then, seeming to have made up her mind, rolls back her parchment and walks to her own seat.

When the meeting is dismissed, Ella tries to catch Remus but he has disappeared as quickly as a house elf. Sighing, she makes her way to the staff table in the Great Hall for dinner. Remus is not coming there either.

But Snape is. He has settled down right in front of her, as still as a piece of rock. She studies the strands of jet black hair at her eye level, wondering what is going on inside that head. And Merlin only knows why she would care.

Having seen and heard them in their good time, it's hard for Ella to witness the current state of Harry and Snape. Harry's head has claimed a permanent position between his shoulders, his eyes sticking to whatever in the direction of the floor, and he hardly talks to anyone. Snape never talks much anyway, but meals after meals he sits at the table, holding a fork in his hand without the slightest movements. Every now and then Minerva would elbow him if she is nearby, and then he would unwillingly take one or two bites before resuming his stillness.

Had it been someone else, Ella would have brought some muffins to their quarters and seduced them to vent. But this is Snape. She is not confident enough to do that to him. His mind is a universe unbeknownst to her… one that she doesn't have enough courage to venture in.

Luckily, at least she will have Harry today. She has asked the boy to come to see her for a cup of tea but he is serving detention all evenings for two weeks and has to, as he claimed, spend the weekend catching up with his homework.

After dinner, the boy arrives at her classroom, exactly on time.

"Good evening, Professor," he greets quietly.

"Good evening, Mr Potter. Please enter."

Ella puts on the most expressionless face she is capable of. She has never punished any child before. Never. Ever.

"I need you to clean all the shelves and artifacts here," she gestures around the classroom. "Fix or replace the labels that have been damaged. Your equipments are over there."

"Yes, ma'am," the boy replies without looking at her.

"Any questions?"

"No, ma'am."

Ella stands up and gather the homework she is grading:

"I will be in the living room. Knock the door if you need to ask something."

"Yes, ma'am."

She leaves the door ajar and sits with her back towards the classroom, carefully listening to the boy's movements. His quietness squeezes her heart. She is accustomed to another Harry. The Harry who never ceases to ask questions and tell stories about his dad. The Harry who smiles and laughs and eats a lot of sweets.

In no time half an hour has passed. She hears equipments being put back in place before the soft knock on the living room's door.

"Yes, Mr Potter?," she answers coldly.

"Uhm… I think it's done, ma'am."

"One moment, please."

She stands up and walks out to check on the work. Yes, it's done. Very well done.

"Good. Now come in here," she gestures to the living room.

Harry shoots her a hesitant look. This is not the first time he is invited to that room but definitely the first time he is invited to that room by this stone-cold-looking Professor Virtanen.

"Go wash hour hands. You know where the washroom is. Then come back here."

The boy obeys. Ella fights hard with herself. Tea? No tea? No, absolutely no biscuits. But tea?!

Harry comes back before the battle ceases. She sighs:

"Sit down, please."

She watches the boy sit down and sighs once more.

"I have been seeing the top of your head instead of your face for a while. Look at me. We are going to have a short talk."

The boy looks up. Ella doesn't even know how to describe his face. Maybe this is not the time to go into that.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he murmurs. "Did I do something wrong in your class? I know I haven't volunteered to answered your questions much lately, but…"

"No, we are not talking about that," Ella cuts him short. "We are talking about what has led you to this two weeks of detention."

Harry pauses and starts biting his bottom lip.

"Tell me, from the beginning, what happened."

The boy drops his head again, his hands squeezing each other. Ella repeats:

"Look at me."

When those emerald eyes are brought back to her sight, Ella can see tension written all over his being. She softens her voice:

"Yes, I have heard here and there about what happened. But I haven't heard it from you. I want you to tell me the story. From the beginning. And no, you don't have a choice in this. This is part of your detention. We are going to talk about what has led you to break the school rules and end up here."

Silence endures for a long, very long while, until a drop of tear rolls down the boy's cheek and his breath shortens into a sniffle.

Ella quietly reaches for the small piece of wood on her side table and holds it in her palm to keep track of her own emotions. She has expected this to happen.

Without a word, she hands the boy the box of tissue. As he grabs it, his quiet cry turns into an outburst.

Ella tries to take even breaths as she watches the boy sobbing and shaking. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes have passed by; he still displays no signs of calming down. If anything, he gradually curls up into a ball.

"You may lie down if you feel the need," Ella says gently. This is out of the plan, but who cares? The boy is crying himself into exhaustion.

Harry doesn't respond to that, but five minutes later, he slides down and lies on his side on the sofa, still curled up in the same ball and still shaking as he sobs.

Ella decides that no conversations can be possibly carried out tonight while the boy is in this shape. She lets him cry for a little more time before approaching him with a gentle command:

"Now sit up, Harry."

She crouches down in front of the boy, bearing her look through his glasses, into the tearful emerald eyes.

"You do realize what you chose to do, running away to nowhere in the darkness under an Invisible Cloak would not help to solve any problem, don't you?"

Harry wipes away his tears with the back of his hand but says nothing.

"Answer me. Yes or no?"

"Yes, ma'am…," his answer gets lost in the tears.

"Good. What can you do instead, when you have a problem?"

More tears in silence. Ella glances at the clock. They are running out of time.

"I… don't… know…"

"Look at me, Harry. Straight in my eyes. And listen."

The boy obeys. Ella speaks slowly, making sure her words properly sinks in:

"You have to talk about it. Talk about your problem with someone. If your friends can't help, you have a lot of adults you can turn to. Your Head of House. Hagrid. R…"

Ella pauses in time. Should she mention Remus?

"… and me. I'm here always Harry, and I promise I will listen. Do you trust me?"

Staring into her eyes, Harry eventually softens, tension released from his body. He silently nods.

"Very well. Whatever happens, you should not let your distress drive you into danger. That doesn't solve any problem. That only causes more problems. Do we understand each other, Harry?"

"Yes, ma'am…"

"Good. Can I have your promise that you won't make such poor decisions again?"

"Yes, ma'am…"

Ella nods in approval. He is calming down. And they have run out of time.

"Your detention is over now. You will go straight back to your dormitory… after washing your face."

However, that doesn't get the boy moving. Instead he starts squeezing the surface of the sofa seat.

"Well? You want to say something?"

"Can I… come here tomorrow too, ma'am?"

"We don't assign detentions on students' request, Mr Potter."

He bites his bottom lip and drops his eyes:

"I'm sorry…"

"Okay, I will ask Professor McGonagall if you can serve detention with me for one more evening. But be aware that it will be a real detention. It's your punishment. You will have to serve some chores as I request and then we will talk. And you will talk about what I ask you to. Is it clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Any other questions?"

The boy squeezes the sofa surface further.

"Go ahead, Mr Potter. You really have to depart for your dormitory soon."

"Are you mad at me, ma'am?"

Ella blinks:

"No. Why?"

"You have been… a bit strict lately… I just wonder…"

"I'm strict today because you are on detention. What did you expect?"

"No, I mean in class…"

"I didn't do anything to you in class."

"Not me, but other students…"

Ella chuckles and shakes her head in amusement:

"Why would I be strict to other students because I'm mad at you? Okay, I will make it short. No, I'm not mad at any of you. I was crossed sometimes when some of your classmates pushed me too far, but no, I'm not mad. I don't get mad that easily."

The boy ceases his squeezing and seems more relaxed.

"Wash your face and be on your way, quick."

Leaning against her door frame, Ella watches as Harry walks away, further and further in the dimly lighted corridor. All she wants to do is to escort him to his dormitory, showing him that he is not alone. But well, she has promised "real punishment". Children need discipline sometimes, even though her emotions are protesting against that.


	16. Chapter 16 - Halloween

**_Author's note_**

 _Dear readers,_

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy. Your reviews are welcome and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 16

 **HALLOWEEN**

Shortly after everyone started indulging in the feast, Ella quietly leaves the Great Hall.

Halloween is not a celebration. Not for her.

Putting down the blown off match, she rounds up her palms to shield the white candle on the parapet from the crazy wind ever present on the third floor's balcony. The flame dances lazily in the midst of the giant darkness waiting for the slightest chance to swallow it.

Darkness. Silence. The universe slowly slips out of her mind, piece by piece. Which is a good thing.

But before the candle melts away any significant amount of its being, Ella hears footsteps approaching. Discrete and hesitant ones, not the familiar brisk and tense steps of Snape passing by her quarters on his patrol every single evening. She narrows her eyes to register the blurred figure in the dimly lighted corridor.

"Harry?"

"Professor."

"You are not supposed to be here."

Harry doesn't reply but continues approaching until he is only a few feet from her. She looks the boy in the eyes. He is calm, although still sad.

"Explain yourself," she commands softly.

Without the slightest sign of fear a student is supposed to display when caught breaking rules by a professor, the boy answers:

"I don't celebrate Halloween."

Green eyes and blue ones silently stare at each other in the darkness. From the back of her mind, Ella hears her own tearful voice: " _I know, kid. I know"._ She tries to keep her expression cold:

"Were you granted permission to wander off alone during the Halloween feast?"

"No, ma'am."

"That means you are breaking a school rule, Mr Potter."

Not afraid, not surprised, not intending to move either, he slightly drops his eyes:

"I also left the feast early last year."

Ella sighs:

"Last year or this year, you are aware that you are not allowed to do this, aren't you? You have just served two weeks of detention for a similar reason, Harry. It's beyond me why you decided to break yet another rule so soon."

The boy doesn't move. Ella wonders what kind of professor she has come across as. Even Harry, such a well-behaved child, has learnt to disregard her authority?

"Last year I was allowed. I left the feast with m... with _him_."

"Look at me when you are talking to me, Harry. I'm tired of seeing your hair instead of your face."

"I'm sorry, ma'am."

As Harry obeys and brings his eyes back to meet hers, Ella weighs her options. Which direction should she drive this conversation into first?

"' _Him_ ' is your dad, I assume."

The boy silently nods.

"Yes, you were allowed to leave the feast with your dad last year. Which is not the case today."

"I don't want to be there... And I want to talk to you. I saw you leave."

In a moment of neglect, the candle goes off. Absentmindedly, Harry draws out his wand to light it up again, only to have it blown off once more. With another wand movement, he puts another flame on it and secures it from the wind.

"Thank you," Ella says and quickly draws the boy's attention back to the matter at hand. "You sincerely believe I will let you get away with leaving the feast early without permission and just simply talk to you?"

Now he is taken aback. Blinking at her, he murmurs:

"I'm sorry, ma'am..."

"I'm not sure what you are being sorry about, Harry," Ella shakes her head.

"I just...," the boy continues murmuring, "last Tuesday I was not sent to you again for detention... I had been waiting..."

"I see," Ella softens her voice. "When I asked your Head of House, your detention on Tuesday had already been scheduled with Professor Sprout. But you can't tell me the only way for you to talk to me is to break a school rule as you are doing. You know I'm always available here after class and at weekend and you can always find me during the time you are allowed to go out, now that your detention has ended. You can't wait until tomorrow?"

A short silence endures before the boy stabs at her weakness... A drop of tear escapes his eye.

It has been a long time since Ella had such a strong desire to curse the universe. _You are not the only one who needs to cry tonight, Harry_. Taking a deep inhale to push that thought away, she says:

"Fine. I will write your Head of House and inform her about the situation. Whether you can stay or must go back there however is her decision. Come in."

Ignoring the fact that the boy still doesn't move, Ella walks in, towards her teacher desk to scratch a note and have Ara bring it to Minerva.

"I told you to come in here, Harry," she calls tiresomely.

"Can we stay out here, ma'am?"

Ella hits her forehead with her palm. Is she letting the child go too far?

"Why?," she asks as she arrives at her previous spot next to the parapet.

"I…," Harry answers quietly, "I have been inside for too long. For the detention."

"I see."

Ella decides not to engage in any further beating around the bush. The boy has broken a school rule only to come talk to her. The sooner they get it over with, the better.

"Are you… commemorating someone, ma'am?"

Ella glances at the white candle, a quarter of which has melted.

"An old friend."

"He… or she… died on Halloween?"

"You said you wanted to talk to me. What is it about?"

The boy turns to playing with the seam of his shirt while biting his bottom lip. Ella waits patiently until her patience indeed runs out.

"Have you talked to your dad recently?"

"My dad is dead."

Ella studies the young face loaded with sadness. A young life loaded with tragedies…

"So," she looks at the boy cautiously, "are you not living with Severus anymore? Or do you only mean that you are keeping a distance from him at the time being?"

Another drop of silent tear escapes his eye.

"What exactly happened, Harry? Tell me from the beginning."

"He's a Death Eater," the boy says in tears… and disdain.

"Severus, you mean?"

He nods.

"As far as I'm informed, it's past tense. He _was_."

"I don't care," the boy spits out. "He killed my parents."

"That is a very serious accusation, Harry. Do you mean it _literally_?"

"He served Voldemort. Voldemort killed my parents."

There is a scary drop of coldness when he delivers that line.

"I know… but if it is only so, it's a far cry from him actually murdering your parents. I'm not saying you shouldn't be upset, you have every right to. But it's important to look at things as they really are and not let your distress drive you into false perceptions."

Harry silently wipes away tears with the back of his hand.

"It's been a while, so I believe you have spent some time thinking about it. What do you think? Do you think you will… just leave him?"

The boy's eyes open wide:

"Ma'am?"

"Just a bit earlier, you implied to me that you have ceased to call Severus you dad. Are you thinking of asking him to terminate his custody over you… so you will never live with him again?"

That sends the boy to absolute immobility. Of all things in the world, he didn't expect this from his Muggle Studies professor… of course he didn't.

"Yes or no?," Ella pushes.

"Ma'am?," he asks, confused and shaken.

"Try answering my question, Harry. It's important."

With a "pop" sound, Ara appears with the reply note from Minerva. Ella quickly opens it.

"Professor McGonagall permits you to stay here with me until curfew, but you will have to report to her office immediately after you leave here. Fine, so we have some more time to talk. Well?"

Harry has dropped his eyes again, his hands playing with his shirt more wildly.

"Do you know why I asked you that question, Harry?"

Silence.

"If you are positive that you can never call him 'dad' or live under the same proof with him again, for whatever reason, then I will make no other comments. But as long as that idea still feels foreign to you, it means after all are said and done, he is still your family, Harry. And when it's a family matter, the best solution is to talk to each other. And listen to each other. No matter how unpleasant it might feel in the process."

More silence.

"I'm not asking you to reconcile with Severus or anything. I just want you to really look at it, facing the question of what you actually want… It does no good for you to keep on with this distress. It's eating you alive. It's eating him alive too, I would imagine."

Harry's head snaps up.

"He is no different than you, Harry," she adds. "He has been visibly, extremely upset."

More tears escape his eyes and wet his face. Ella asks softly:

"Is there anything I am yet unaware of, besides the fact that you didn't know he used to be a Death Eater?"

Harry's eyes turn to staring at the dancing flame of the melting candle.

"Did he lie to you about it, or did he only not mention it?"

He shakes his head and bites his bottom lip harder.

Failing to refrain herself, Ella sighs and gently strikes her fingers through the mop of messy hair, causing the boy to burst into an audible cry.

Several minutes later, he eventually calms down while her comforting hand is still placed on his shoulder. In a story-telling voice, she says:

"I have met and worked with several former Death Eaters in Britain, Harry. What I can tell you about it is that in wartime it was not just black and white. The world isn't divided into good people and Death Eaters."

"My godfather said the same…"

"Your godfather?"

"I talked to him. He also said the world isn't divided into good people and Death Eaters."

"I see. What is his opinion about this problem you are having?"

"He said he would be more than happy if I come and live with him… but he thinks this is not a good reason for me to do that."

"Does you godfather know Severus well?"

"He does. They were in the same year at school."

"I see."

"I…," Harry turns to torturing his shirt again, "I don't understand why he followed Voldemort. Voldemort wanted to get rid of the muggleborn. People like my mum. And he said my mum was his best friend."

"Did you ask Severus that question?"

Quietly, he shakes his head.

"I believe he and he only is the right one from whom you should get the answer."

"Professor Dumbledore said… he switched side when Voldemort started going after my mum."

That strikes on Ella's busily working nerves.

"Professor Dumbledore told you so?"

"Yes, ma'am. Professor Dumbledore said… he witnessed the last moment of my dad being a Death Eater."

The phrase "my dad" comes back as gently and sweet as the sound of a bird greeting a spring morning. Ella smiles.

Long after she has sent the boy on his way, Ella is still there, leaning against the parapet, on top of which is a completely melted and blown out candle.

"Professor Snape," she says quietly when the familiar footsteps march by behind her back and totally ignore her… as it has been for the past two weeks.

The steps cease. The man turns around. The dim Lumos spot on his wand tip makes his expression seem even scarier, coupled with his dangerously low voice.

"How can I help you, Professor Virtanen?"

Ella shrugs:

"I'm just saying hello."

With a narrow glare, he almost turns on his heels when Ella's words slip out:

"You are drunk again."

It's too late. For Merlin's sake, she just detected that smell of alcohol again and failed to keep it to herself…

"Not your business, or is it?," the man spits out through his teeth. "Let me get it straight, Virtanen. Do not for a moment think that your… _heroic_ action last week has granted you the right to patronise me. Dumbledore might worship you, but I don't, Virtanen. A renowned researcher… activist… favourite professor of nearly all students… and now the Alpha Werewolf heroin… Tremendous, are you? You think I don't know you just wanted to save the neck of your good friend Lupin? Or to add more achievements to your profile of minority rights advocacy?"

Ella's eyes open wide, bearing an astonished look into the pair of black eyes now filled with bitterness. She struggles to get her words out:

"I would ask you to apologise, Professor Snape. But I guess you won't see anything wrong with your behaviour anyway, so there's no point…"

"Apologise? Certainly. I apologise for speaking the truth and hurting your little swollen ego, Professor Virtanen."

Delivering the deadliest glare Ella has ever seen, he turns on his heels and storms away, leaving her shaking from the effort to keep her feet on the ground.

As Snape disappears at the staircase, Ella drags herself inside, her lips pressed together into a thin line. The moment the classroom door closes behind her, she loses it. Sweeping her hand over the top of the sofa table, she throws all what have got caught between her fingers into the fireplace, causing the flame to roar up violently. The first drop of tear escapes her when she collapses. Curling up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the sofa, she starts weeping into her folded arms.

Anything. Anytime. But not on Halloween's night.


	17. Chapter 17 - The ocean's call

CHAPTER 17

 **THE OCEAN'S CALL**

" _With that being said, I hope for future studies that seek to bring forth applications of the Alpha Charm and/or its magical properties as a tool to improve public security and support the civil rights of persons afflicted with Lycanthropy."_

Satisfied, Ella rolls up the article draft and puts it away in her bag.

The Hogwarts Express is crawling along a snowy path in the cheering sunlight. It's odd how much she is missing home. All these years she has always been away for most of the time, barring only the holidays and the short intervals between her field trips and she never missed home. Well, perhaps it's because of the holiday.

She has never been away in December before. December is the season when her feet would be kept firm on Finnish ground. She would go to the familiar Christmas market to shop for Finnish stuffs. On the Christmas Eve and New Year Eve she would be home with her parents, eating Finnish food, drinking Finnish drinks and doing traditional Finnish things.

And now, for the first time after more than three decades of existing, she is heading on a Christmas shopping trip to London, from Scotland. It feels pretty odd.

Bored, she lazily takes another sip of coffee before opening her bag again and pulling out her pen and notebook to start another draft. The next topic on the list is one that has been on her mind all these months.

Through time, more and more students revealed to her how they have been subject to Snape's verbal abuse. She is disturbed to no end – it has become a bloody sort of tradition, as if the school must anyway have a villain adult somewhere in the staff to make sure students are never too happy. She was quite hesitant at first, but now Snape has given her good reasons to quit her concerns about his feelings and enabled her to think of tackling his problem with rather "cold" blood. Not that she has come up with any actual approach though.

The holiday atmosphere doesn't help much with that. After an endless session of spinning her pen over her notebook and dreamily viewing the snowy scenes through the train window, she arrives in London with the draft remaining untouched. Never mind. Today is a day she dedicates to having fun, not working.

A short bus ride later, she smiles to herself as she walks into the familiar Leaky Cauldron. How refreshing it is to be once again that lone woman wandering everywhere with a simple shoulder bag and a spirit of a wild bird.

"Ella! Sweet Merlin, I have started to think you are not having work to do in London anymore…"

"Morning, Tom," she grins at the pub owner. "You still remember me…"

"I'm not that old," he shakes his head disapprovingly. "How can I forget such a regular customer? A brandy as usual, my lady?"

"No. A lemonade, if you will, sir."

Pushing the glass towards Ella, the man studies her closely.

"So… how has life been? Are you still running errands elsewhere in Britain?"

Ella shrugs:

"Well, I guess yes. I teach at Hogwarts now."

"Hogwarts? You are now a Hogwarts professor? Bless my soul!"

"I'm afraid it's not my expertise, sorry."

Tom burst into laughter. Without asking, he pulls her empty glass away and wipes the bar top in the same movement:

"So you are dropping by London on the way back to Finland for the holiday, I assume?"

"No. I stay at Hogwarts this holiday. Come here for a shopping trip in Diagonal Alley. Just to run away from the school a bit."

"I see, I see. Have a nice day then, Professor!"

"For Merlin's sake," Ella rolls her eyes, "Call me Ella, Tom. I've been 'Professor' twenty-four hours a day for a good three months. Rather depressing at times, you know."

The man chuckles in response and heads to the backyard. Ella follows him, buttoning up the collar of her coat while he helps her open the gateway to Diagonal Alley with his wand.

She used to believe the end of August is the busiest time of this place. She was totally wrong. The summer crowd is nothing compared to this Christmas crowd of shoppers.

That reduces the fun significantly. All she can see is people. People everywhere. Even in the shops, taking a look at the items on display is a real struggle. Walking around is another struggle.

Ella sighs. She doesn't really have a shopping list, and now stuck in this crowd she has to come up with something to do until afternoon when the train departs back to Hogwarts.

She continues walking aimlessly and starts humming along a Christmas song played from one of the stores – quite impossible to figure out which one. The article about the Alpha Charm slowly crawls back into her mind. She wonders if the urban werewolves – like Remus – have any chance to actually celebrate Christmas. She doesn't know much about them, but the one in urban areas of Britain tend to be homeless and more often than not completely forgot about while the charity organisations offer Christmas aids to the homeless.

She doesn't notice where she is going until a spell hits her at the back and a violent force pulls her aside into a tiny and dark alley.

The spell has silenced her. Her efforts to call for help comes out soundless.

A gang of crazy-looking wizards corner her with a wand pointed at her throat.

"Surrender your wand, mudblood."

Desperate, she tries to open her bag, hoping that giving them all her money will get her released. The moment she touches her bag, one of them shoots a spell at her hands:

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell throws her back to the wall, but of course no wand flies to him. He barks:

"Where's your wand?"

Ella slightly shakes her head while his wand digs deeper into her throat. Abruptly, the bag is clutched away from her, causing her to be pulled forward and choke herself on the wand tip. She coughs until tears spill out and blur her vision.

The men are apparently checking her purse. Holding up her identity card, another one of them mutters:

"Wizard-born muggle… such florid words for a filthy squib. What are you doing here shamelessly walking around in muggle clothes, you disgraceful Finnish piece of crap?"

Hoping against hope that they will be happy enough with the money and set her free after perhaps an Oblivion Charm, she feels a shiver crawling down her spine as the man studies her with a creepy look:

"Perhaps we can all get a shot with this blondie chic, blokes. Doesn't look that bad."

A sickening burst of laughter prevails before a violent tug pulls her by the wrist into an apparition. She is then tossed down on a sandy surface. She gasps as the sound of waves hitting the coast comes to her ears.

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell is chanted out by a sharp, familiar voice. All Ella can realise is a fight breaking out in front of her and one of the gang members trying to grab her but thrown away by another spell before he manages.

The sound of waves hitting the coast comes clearer and clearer, repeating, magnifying. Her heart beats crazily as her breaths shorten. In the midst of the scary rhythm, she hears herself screaming his name.

Unleashed at full force, she digs her fingers deep into the sand, stands up and heads towards the sea. Still soundless and blur-visioned, with one hand clenching at the pain in her chest, she drags her steps through the sand, seeing nothing but the waves swallowing anything within their reach, hearing nothing but her own voice screaming his name.

Soon she reaches the water. The waves throw themselves at her, intimidating, inviting. He is there. He is still there. She always knows it.

Her steps become heavier as the freezing water gets to somewhere around her knees. She keeps on wading further and further ahead. He is there. He is waiting.

Suddenly, a firm grip grabs her arm and pulls her backwards. With all her strength, she brushes it off and moves on, not bothering to look back. Another grip catches her other arm and is once more forced to release. She almost falls forward when she is scooped up by the underarm and raised into midair. She struggles to get back down.

"LET ME GO! MATTI! MATTIII…"

The scream bursts out of her throat as if it had shattered the Silencing Charm, but it quickly gets lost in the roaring waves. Strong arms hold her more tightly and carry her through the wind back to the beach.

She is dropped to the sandy ground once more, this time with less force. A stream of warmth spreads all over her body. She feels her back being supported by someone's shoulder and a glass vial pressed against her lips.

"Drink this. You'll be fine," a familiar voice speaks into her ear.

"Let me go! Matti!"

The waves are still roaring out there. He is waiting out there! She tries to get up again but the arm wrapped around her pulls her down. The voice speaks again with less gentleness:

"Drink it. Open your mouth, take a sip, for the love of Merlin!"

As if she had a choice. Strong fingers gently grip her jaws and forces her mouth to slightly open for the liquid to be poured in.

"There, very good," the voice besides her ear softens. "Now try to breath slowly. No, you are not going anywhere. Breath…"

A hand is placed on her left chest and assists to press the air out when she exhales. But it doesn't last till the third second. Her chest works up a painful tension and she summons all her strength to break herself out of the embrace.

Another vial is pressed to her lips and the same taste of liquid crawls in before the same voice tells her to breath. Just right when her chest starts to release some tension, another roar of the waves hits her nerves. She makes another attempt to escape, only to find herself completely locked up in those arms.

The voice mutters something, apparently displeased. And then something is held right at her nostrils. That smell. A strange but familiar smell. She has met it once, somewhere, at some point…

The smell is soothing. It clears her airway, making room for her inhales to flow all the way inward without being blocked by a choke. She eventually gives up the struggle.

The same arms pull her up and right her on her feet.

"Hold old tightly. We are apparating back to school."

"No! Let me go!," she screams, but with a much softer volume.

"Calm down," the voice softly speaks into her ear again. "You'll be fine. Trust me."

Hung around someone's neck by one elbow and secured by someone's arm around her waist, she is tugged into another apparition. The moment her feet get back to the ground, she throws up everything in her stomach.

In less than a second, all the mess is vanished and she is gently lifts into midair again before flied towards the blurred form of the familiar castle. Hogwarts.

The wind whips at her face, but before long a dark piece of fabric has come to shield her from it. All what she can recognise is the sound of the air being torn through and the fabric billowing in front of her eyes.

"Severus? Ella?! Merlin, what happened?!," a woman's voice exclaims.

"A severe panic attack, I believe," that voice, the comforting voice, replies.

Ella's vision gets better as she is dragged into the well-lighted room with curtain beds lined along the wall. Sat down on one of those beds, she immediately collapses.

"I fed her two vials of Calming Draught already; it didn't seem to work. But this helps. Cavern fennel. I have a batch of virgin extract in my lab, I'll bring. In the meantime she can inhale it raw like this."

The next thing Ella knows is that smell held at her nostrils again and a gentle hand moving her limbs to comfortable positions before rubbing circles on her back. She is still trapped in a storm blowing up everything within her mind. She didn't notice tears have been flowing freely out of her eyes since she doesn't know when.

"Relax, Ella. You are safe."

Tiresomely, her hand reaches to wipe away the tears. A cup is placed on her face, covering her nose and mouth and the soothing fragant starts coming to her through it.

Slowly, she falls asleep.


	18. Chapter 18 - Aftermath

CHAPTER 18

 **AFTERMATH**

"… but I had to let them go because she was running headlong into the sea."

"Did she look like she was under the Imperius Curse?"

"Unlikely I think, but I'm not certain. She screamed at the top of her lungs and fought tooth and nail when I tried to stop her."

"What did she scream?"

"No idea. I believe it was in Finnish."

Ella slowly opens her eyes. She is still in that curtained bed of Hogwarts' infirmary. Someone has changed her into her pyjamas, presumably brought here by her house elf Ara.

It feels like a huge mess has slipped off her mind, leaving it empty, clean and clear. The cup is no longer on her face, but the fragrant remains somewhere nearby.

"So I'll leave this batch here for you," the deep, silky voice continues on the other side of the curtain. "It will mature in about half an hour."

"Thank you, Severus."

"Not at all. Just call me if you need something else."

Footsteps head towards the fireplace and imaginably disappear in the roaring flame. Ella slides the curtain open.

"You are awake. How are you?," Poppy beams as she peeks in to look at her patient.

"I'm quite fine, thank you."

"Are you hungry? You must be. I'll order you some soup. What would you like to eat?"

In such a situation, Ella knows one is supposed to be uninterested in food and answer "I don't want to eat" or at least "Anything". But she is indeed hungry and her appetite, for some reason, is working.

"Salmon soup. Please."

"Yes, one moment."

The mediwitch briskly walks towards the fireplace to order the soup. By the time she gets back, Ella has finished pulling her hair into the signature ethnography-goddess-bun. Quick, simple, convenient for field work and fun to collectively display at professional gatherings. For now, it does bring her a refreshing psychological effect.

Poppy sits down again on the edge of the bed and looks Ella in the eyes.

"Do you remember what happen?"

Silence lasts for a few seconds while Ella's palms give her face a good massage. She lets out a sigh:

"Yes."

"Do you feel like there was a period when you were somehow unconscious or you can't recall what happened?"

Pulling her knees to her chest and dropping her eyes to the blanket, she shakes her head:

"No. I remember everything."

"I see."

They are rescued from the awkwardness when Ara arrives with the much needed salmon soup. The elf blinks worriedly:

"You are feeling unwell, Professor? Should Ara bring you something else from your quarters?"

Ella smiles at her and feels a large amount of guilt in her gut. Fighting for minority rights as she does, she has never paused for a second to remind herself that the school house elf who helps her magickless self in numerous ways day in day out also has a heart, a soul, and love. She is quite certain she wouldn't even notice if Ara is someday sick.

"I'm fine, Ara. Thank you."

The elf bows and disappears. Poppy pushes the bowl closer to Ella:

"Would you like to talk while you eat or would you prefer me to send myself away?"

Ella chuckles:

"Yes, we can talk while I eat if you don't mind me talking with a full mouth at times."

"I take it as a yes then," Poppy replies amusedly.

This is pretty ridiculous… Ella is not supposed to be so relaxed after all what happened. But for some reason the burden she expects is not there. Besides, it can be easier to talk about it with the possibility to hide awkward moments behind a spoonful of salmon soup.

"You don't have to tell me everything, but please tell me as much as you are comfortable to. It appeared to me you had experienced a very severe panic attack. Has this ever happened to you before?"

Ella swallows and takes a long pause after that. Finally, she nods.

"Are you aware as to what might have triggered them?"

"The sea," Ella answers dryly.

"The sea?"

"Yes."

She starts picking at the soup, hoping to shrink into a little girl who could throw tantrums to get away from difficult questions. But soon she decides to just get it over with. Putting down the spoon, she calmly explains:

"I had a bad… very bad memory involving the sea. When it happened, I was so shocked I tried to drown myself, but a friend pulled me back in time. I never came anywhere near the sea again… for the past ten years."

"May I ask what happened?," Poppy frowns empathetically.

"I don't want to recall it."

"I'm sorry."

"No," Ella waves her off. "I understand why you are concerned. I just don't want to recall it… and I'm fine. I'm sure everyone has some bad memories to cope with."

"I see."

Ella softly smiles and feed herself spoonful of salmon.

"What Severus saw was you being apparated away from Diagonal Alley by a homeless gang."

"I went there for a bit of Christmas atmosphere. They hit me from the back with a Silencing Charm and pulled me to a dark alley… because I looked like 'a mudblood walking around shamelessly in muggle clothes', they said. Then they found out I was not a mudblood but a filthy squib… just the same for them though, I think. They apparated me to that beach because they wanted to…"

Ella pauses for a moment before letting out:

"… rape me, I guess."

A terrified Poppy rolls her eyes and sighs:

"You should be very careful in Diagonal Alley this time of the year. All kinds of people troop there at Christmas."

"Yeah… well, I didn't know that," Ella sighs in reply.

"You had a bruise on your neck. Was it from the attack?"

Ella nods:

"They stabbed a wand tip into my throat."

"Sweet Merlin. I treated the bruise but does it still hurt from inside?"

Ella slides her finger around the previously injured area on her neck:

"Nope."

"Good then."

"Thank you, Poppy."

"I'm just doing my job," he mediwitch shakes her head. "Now back to your panic attack. Severus and I thought it'd be in your best interest if you keep a solution handy to help calm yourself down should it happen again – which is unlikely, but as we have seen, possible. Because your panic attack was the most severe form of its kind: It drove you to self harm, and as you said it used to happen before and it repeated with the same severity when you were exposed to the trigger."

Ella slightly frowns upon the mention of "Severus". Since when has he been a healing professional in this school, which he isn't?

Poppy reaches for something on the nightstand. A bracelet. Ella's bracelet.

"This was broken during the fight but Severus fixed it for you." (Ella frowns again). "He has just made an essential oil from cavern fennel – the herb that successfully calmed you down on that beach when the ordinary Calming Draught didn't work. So we were thinking that if we coat your bracelet with this oil, when you are panicked you can just raise your wrist to your nostrils and inhale. Everyday you can soak it in the oil overnight to maintain the coating. He brewed enough of it for you to use for six months. When it is about to run out you can come here to get more – or actually you can come directly to him."

Ella mentally rolls her eyes.

"That sounds great. But if I accidentally inhale it when I'm not panicked, which is the case for most of the time, won't it make me drowsy or something? And is it addictive?"

"No, cavern fennel is not addictive and you can never be overdosed with it either. And this coating works according to the pulses it sensors from your wrist. If your pulses are in the normal rhythm, it won't work."

"Sophisticated," Ella exclaims with amazement.

Poppy smiles:

"It's Severus Snape we are talking about."

Ella mentally rolls her eyes again. Despite her annoyance, she receives the bracelet after Poppy has casted the first coating upon it. Once cheap and unimportant, now it is sitting on her wrist as a miraculous lifeguard. This and the Alpha Charm around her neck. What's next? She might as well someday end up as a lifesaving artifact hanger.

"Thank you, Poppy. I'll just finish this soup and then I will leave."

"Yes, finish that soup but no, you are not leaving," Poppy says matter-of-factly as she stands up. "You will sleep here tonight."

"What?," Ella protests. "But why? I'm fine!"

"You are. But you have had a long day; the distress might affect your sleep. I prefer you to spend the night here so I can help you right away if something comes up. I'm a little concerned that it required something as strong as cavern fennel to calm your panic. Seeing that you are also sensitive to sleeping disorder, I suspect you might have had other symptoms during your sleep that you are yet aware of. Now that you are here, let me check on that too."

Ella sighs loudly. Well, she doesn't like people who make a fuss over getting medical help when they need. On the other hand she doesn't like being in need of medical help either.

"I see… But in that case I can still leave and come back at bedtime, can't I?"

"Technically you can, but I don't see much difference. It's eight o'clock now. After you finish that soup you will likely have time for a few stretches and a quick supper before getting back to sleep."

"Eight o'clock? In the evening?!"

"Yes."

Not until now does Ella glance at the clock on the wall and take a look through the window. It's totally dark. She is literally having her lunch at eight o'clock in the evening.

"So I have slept all day?"

"Throughout the afternoon, to be precise. You were exhausted, Ella, all those events and on top of them you have taken two doses of Calming Draught and a full hour of cavern fennel inhale. But it's alright, you will be perfectly well again when you wake up in the morning."

"Sweet Merlin…," Ella his her face with her palm.

Poppy chuckles:

"Relax, young lady. Tomorrow is Sunday."

"Fine. I see. Thank you," Ella shrugs grudgingly.

Poppy retreats to her office. Only after finishing her soup does Ella notice the remaining of the story. On the nightstand is her bag, neatly placed next to a small vase holding a branch of some hay-like grass covered with tiny yellow flowers. If the fragrant is anything to go by, it must be a branch of raw cavern fennel.

And why on earth would a branch of medical herb be displayed in a flower vase on an infirmary nightstand? Ella sighs and shakes it off her head. Everything in the world seems wrong when one is in the wrong mood.

She is pretty sure the perfect Severus Snape has fixed her bag too because it is now in an impossibly good condition. The mess usually found inside it is now neatly organised. Her purse is, however, absent.

Thanks Merlin she didn't plan to go home for Christmas, otherwise there would be huge trouble now that all her travel documents have disappeared with her money… Thanks Merlin again that she didn't bring along much money.

Fine, five minutes is enough to be upset about all this. The most important and nonrenewable things – her drafts and notes – are still here and in good shape.

She lets out a sigh of relief as she realises how fortunate it is that she didn't manage to write down a nasty title for the draft that was intended to hold the verbally abusive professor accountable for his sins. Just imagine him picking up her mess, including herself, and noticing something like that…

Speaking of that, why in Merlin's name did it have to be him who showed up?

 _Because had no one shown up, you wouldn't be sitting here asking that question now, you ungrateful woman_ , a voice mutters from the back of her mind.

Taking a deep breath, she pulls out her notebook, flips to a neat page and starts writing.

 _Professor Snape,_

 _Thank you very much._

She inclines her head to one side, staring at the lines. Nope. This sounds too half-hearted for a lifesaving favour.

 _Professor Snape,_

 _Thank you for saving my life._

No, no way. He would laugh his heart out at her sentimentality.

Seriously, how can someone be so antisocial that writing a thank you note to him feels like an adventure?

 _Professor Snape,_

 _Thank you._

There you go. He won't be able to comment, complain or laugh at this. Raw and to the business, his style.

She carefully rolls up the note, feeling a little embarrassed that he has got the chance to see the wild and messy world inside her belongings. She spends several seconds trying to make the roll as neat and square as possible before asking Ara to bring it to him.

Knowing Snape, she doesn't waste a second waiting for his reply. She doesn't care. She has stopped caring about him long ago, since Halloween night. At some point, somehow, for some reason, Harry has come back to his normal self, being once more happy, healthy and in love with his dad. Harry is fine, that's all she needs to know. Why would she care about Snape while she has the rest of the universe to care about?

But life is hard. Now the self doubt is back; will she ever be able to finally write that harsh article tackling this dour professor whose tongue keeps torturing the kids without mercy?

She swallows those thoughts together with her supper before dropping herself back to bed. Poppy is right; she is still exhausted. Half of the weekend is ruined. Her Christmas mood is ruined too. Everything is ruined. Life is ruined.

Closing the curtain, she resorts to a stupid thing she usually does in stupid time. She raises her hand up high and studies it.

The skin has become softer and finer thanks to the life of a professor who has to do nothing apart from teaching and grading homework. It is also paler; she definitely needs to go out in the sun more if she doesn't want to end up looking like a vampire.

She starts to cuddle it with the other hand. It's been so long since someone held it, tightly and gently, and pulled her into yet another adventure in one of those autumn forests, or on the frozen surface of those winter lakes, or in the deep late nights hunting for the auroras or waiting for the midnight sun… Well, don't go down that path; it'd never end.

She takes a closer look at her ring finger. The mark is no longer there. In fact though, she can still see it there with a little bit of imagination. How long had she been waiting for that much needed kiss to land on it?

"Professor?"

Startled, Ella hurriedly wipes away the drop of stupidity rolling out of her eye before sliding the bed curtain slightly open.

After Ara has disappeared, she is still staring at the roll of reply that she didn't expect. Should she open it now and let his infamous words destroy her mood yet further, or should she save it for tomorrow?

Perhaps just get it over with. She has here a full raw branch of cavern fennel and a vial of its essential oil to cope with the cruelty of the universe, Snape included.

She has never seen his handwriting before. For someone as rough as him, it seems extraordinarily gentle.

 _You are welcome._

 _Please call me Severus._


	19. Chapter 19 - The friends' tale

CHAPTER 19

 **THE FRIENDS' TALE**

"Your wand, please."

"I don't have a wand, sir. I'm a wizard-born muggle. But here is a certificate issued today by the Finnish Magical Embassy in Britain, which should serve as my temporary identification…"

"Do you have with you an _official_ identification, ma'am?"

"As I have explained, all of my papers were stolen, which is the reason I need to come here in the first place…"

The security wizard slowly scans Ella from top to toe with an unpleasant scowl.

"As a rule, only certain types of identification are accepted for guest entrance registration at the Ministry, the most desirable of which is a wand. In your case I am afraid…"

"Her access to law enforcement services cannot be denied on the basis of her wand ownership or lack thereof, sir," Tristan coldly cuts in. "And it is impractical, don't you think, that a resident is required to show her identification documents before she is allowed to meet the law enforcement officials to report the theft of exactly those?"

The security shrugs:

"I am only following the guidelines…"

"I understand that, sir, but as far as I am informed, an individual's internationally defined rights override the guidelines at institutional level. I believe you can contact a person in charge to inquire about further guidelines regarding Miss Virtanen's specific case?"

Now the scowl is directed to an atypically pissed off Tristan Flandin, only to meet with his dead glare, also atypical.

"Very well. Please wait."

Grudgingly, the security wizard scratches a quick note on a deep red piece of parchment, sends it off by an owl with an "urgent" command and a few minutes later receives a reply that allows the Embassy's certificate to be accepted as Ella's identification. As they walk away towards the elevators, Tristan mutters with the greatest amount of annoyance she has ever seen in his being:

"See why it's good to have a lawyer with you? You can never know what to expect once it comes to bureaucracy. Blasted bureaucracy."

"I think they just forgot that wizard-born muggles do exist."

"Which is a cardinal sin."

"Aww, calm down, will you?"

"No."

"But you are supposed to be the calm one."

"A lawyer has every right to be pissed off and lose his calmness as long as such a state does not lead him to committing unlawful acts."

He delivers that line with so serious a face that Ella bursts into laughter.

"I can't believe you are…" he mutters, but then trails off. "Well, no, it's good that you are laughing."

"Sorry," Ella ceases her laughter and slightly flushes.

"Don't be. That is exactly why I like you."

"Thank you," Ella replies silkily and amusedly.

"Here we are, you impossible woman."

Half an hour later, Ella has already had to kick Tristan under the desk numerous times to stop him from giving yet another lecture to the officer. This is probably the drawback of a law professor playing the role of a practical lawyer – he is out of touch with the tough reality sometimes.

"May I ask, ma'am, why did you wear muggle clothes while shopping in Diagonal Alley?"

"May I ask, sir, why is it deemed a relevant question to this case?," Tristan asks coldly, his patience running yet lower.

"It is a matter of self protection awareness, Mr Flandin." the officer looks at him through a pair of square lens. "In a particularly busy place like Diagonal Alley at Christmas, one can be more vulnerable to trouble if they choose to display themselves in an unordinary way that is bound to attract attention…"

"It is the law enforcement force's responsibility to ensure safety for everyone regardless of how they choose to display themselves in pub…"

Ella kicks him again and cuts in:

"I understand your point, sir, but I traveled through muggle London to get to Diagonal Alley and I bet being there in muggle clothes is much more preferable, in terms of security, than being in muggle London in witch clothes. Besides, I agree with Mr Flandin that I should reserve my right to dress as I see fit without fearing attacks due to of how I might appear to someone else's eyes."

"Of course it is your undeniable right, ma'am," the officer replies. "I am only offering advice seeing that you are a foreign resident…"

"Your advice is much appreciated, sir. That being said, I believe the main point at hand is to find and arrest the aforementioned gang?"

"Certainly, certainly," he nods.

By the time all the procedures are done with and they make their way out of the Ministry, the sunset has fallen upon London.

"I'm sorry for kicking you," Ella displays a genuine apologetic face.

Tristan sighs:

"I have little energy left to do anything else so I forgive you. Besides, it didn't hurt."

"Of course. I didn't intend to break your leg."

Glancing at her, he softly smiles, his brown eyes reflects the dim shades of the surrounding twilight.

"I would take you for dinner at a good restaurant if…"

"You will now take me back to Hogwarts and then take yourself back to Harvard. We can have dinner separately at our respective places."

"Yes, ma'am," he surrenders.

They apparate to the gate of Hogwarts. If only they could share a dinner and a good laugh after this tiring Monday and her eventful weekend. But they both have a long to do list waiting in their offices and a long week ahead.

"Are you sure you will be fine walking to the castle in this darkness? You should have brought your torch light. Or better, your broomstick."

"For Merlin's sake, it's Hogwarts," Ella exclaims amusedly. "One of the safest places in Europe. And I assure you, no one here is bothered by my muggle clothes. At least no one told me so just yet."

"Forget about that stupid officer. He was only jealous that you are a master of muggle camouflage. I will wait here until you arrive at your quarters and call me from there."

Ella drops her voice:

"You don't have to, Tristan… I'm fine."

"You always are, but I reserve my right to be sometimes worried about my best friend."

Ella opens her arm. They pull each other into a goodbye hug. In a blink, the memory revives once more in her mind. That day was probably the same scary to him as it was to her.

"Take care."

"You too."

Ella leaves the door of her classroom open, as it usually is, while she sits at the teacher desk grading homework, at the same time munching her dinner and waiting for the routine patrolling footsteps.

When they finally approach, she briskly stands up and walks out, leaning again the doorframe.

"Professor Snape."

The man ceases his steps. He stands in the middle of the corridor, quietly looking at her, this time calm and sober, although still expressionless.

"I mean, Severus," she shyly corrects herself. "I wonder if you can spare two minutes? I just have a quick question I need to ask you."

"Please go ahead," he answers blankly.

"I went to the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol today to report the incident of last Saturday. They said they would need to ask for testimony from you, but I think I should ask you first. They will likely try to contact you at some point soon, but if you don't want to be involved in this investigation, please let me know and I'll ask my lawyer to handle it."

The man blinks in slight surprise:

"You are having a lawyer handle it?"

"Well, yes," Ella shrugs, secretly amused by the thought of herself coming across as someone rich enough to hire a personal lawyer. From Harvard, no less.

"I see. No, I don't mind. They can contact me as they deem necessary."

"Thank you very much, Severus."

"You are welcome."

Determined not to be the one who is brushed off first, she delivers another smile:

"I won't take more of your time. Have a good evening."

Without another word, without further delay, the man departs on his way…

As he always does.

The holiday spirit keeps escalating regardless of whomever's mood. The next Saturday morning, a package of Finnish Christmas things arrives from Ella's parents and puts her to full holiday mode. In said mode she spends the afternoon delivering Christmas gifts.

Starting off at Rubeus' hut, she proceeds to the owlery to send her parents a full collection of The Three Broomsticks' specialty blends and Tristan a holiday pact of all-flavour beans that he specifically requested. The process goes on with the repeated scene of different professors and staff members being amazed at their share of muggle Finnish chocolate, except for Sybill who also offers an enthusiastic piece of prophecy saying that Ella is soon to meet the man of her dream and Argus asking several questions to clarify whether the sweet is safe for Mrs Norris to eat. Everyone else out of the way, she trots down the stairs on her way to one of the last two recipients.

Staring at the dungeon door for several seconds, she finally gathers enough courage to knock. The familiar rhythm of footsteps echoes from the stone walls inside. The door abruptly opens and he peeks out.

"Hello, Severus," she smiles brightly. "I brought you some Christmas biscuits. I made them by myself, only ginger and cinnamon… I hope you'll like them."

A silent scowl slowly forms on his forehead as he moves his eyes from the biscuits to her face. She mentally sighs. Now what? Is it really that difficult for him to at least pretend to be a normal human being and accept a pack of bloody biscuits without hurting other people's feelings? She has gone through all the trouble to bake them after checking with Harry to make sure all the ingredients are something he does eat, unlike chocolate…

"You don't have to do this, Professor Virtanen. We are not friends."

"No, of course not. Not in my wildest dream."

Ella sharply drops her hand and shoots a deeply disturbed look straight into his cold eyes.

"Sorry I bothered you with some blasted biscuits. How dare I."

In the same second, she turns on her heels and stomps her way upstairs, not caring the least about the students who might be around and notice. Without a second thought, she tosses the biscuits into the nearest trash bin in her sight.

Shaking it off her head, she takes a deep breath before knocking on the door of her main destination today.

"Ella?"

"Hello, Remus."

The man is completely dumbstruck in the face of his visitor. He has been avoiding everyone for months and taking good care to especially avoid her. Which is the reason she has reserved plenty of time today to deliver him his chocolate.

"Here is some Christmas chocolate for you."

It takes him a full minute to digest that and timidly receive the box of sweet.

"Thank you, Ella."

"Are you having some free time? Care for a cup of tea?"

Anxiously, he swallows:

"I…"

Ella softens her voice:

"I have been trying to talk to you but you kept disappearing every time."

A loud sigh is let out as he drops his head.

"You don't have to do this, Ella."

"I don't have to do anything. Anything I do, I do because I so choose."

He raises his eyes to look at her, studying her expression.

"Well?"

"Please come in. If you don't mind."

"Why would I mind something I asked for, Remus?," she softly chuckles.

Remus drags himself around the obviously neglected living room and remains totally quiet until two cups of tea are served to the table.

"How have you been?," Ella asks.

"Normal," he answers dryly.

"I see."

What happens next is unbelievable.

Fifteen minutes passes by without any other words or moves. The man's eyes stick tightly to the floor, his entire form as immobile as a muggle photograph.

As the sixteenth minute ticks in, she sighs:

"I hope you like the chocolate. And Merry Christmas."

She quietly stands up and sees herself off. Remus remains deep in his silence and immobility until she is only one step away from the doorstep.

"Thank you, Ella. For everything."

She can hear her heart dropping down to her stomach in a violent movement.

The sadness surrounding Remus is intense and haunting. The end of the gift delivery trip rips her off any sort of holiday mood that exists and leaves her in a deep contemplation of mankind's sufferings. Of all things in the world, as she arrives at her own quarters, what she finds waiting at the classroom door just has to be…

… Severus Snape.

Without slowing her steps, she shoots him the best glare of her life that he so much deserves and otherwise totally ignores his him.

"Can we talk?"

He finally speaks up when he realises she is making no pretence to pay him any attention. She turns around with a stone cold face. A real one.

And silence. The silence he always so much deserves.

"What I meant was I didn't think I deserved you present seeing that we had not been that close."

Ella snorts. It's the worst excuse that has ever been made up in the history of magic, regardless why he deems it necessary o make up such an excuse to begin with.

Shooting him another glare, she dryly replies:

"I don't know why but I always have the feeling that the mere fact of me being around is enough to bother you. Or is it just the paranoia of my swollen ego? Whatever way, I'm sorry about that."

Black eyes open wide to stare at her, and she stares back. His scowl deepens.

She has half a mind of asking him to walk in in case some students might pass by, or worse, come to visit her, and catch them in the middle of a war of looks. But no, she doesn't care. No students would ever dare to question him, anyway. And even if some of them do, he can go and explain it to them by himself.

A loud sigh is let out, followed by his quiet voice:

"You remind me very much of a belated friend. Sometimes it's hard to cope with all the memories it brings back."

"Lily Evans Potter?"

He is shocked at that. A great shock. Ella shrugs:

"A few people have told me I have some similarities with her."

Snape remains silent. His look softens into… yet another glow of sadness...

"I understand – or at least I hope so – but I hope you also realise that I don't resemble her on purpose. Nor can I help that. Nor have I been even aware of that until very much recently. Anyway, I'm sorry that my existence causes you negative feelings."

"I didn't mean anything close to that."

Ella crosses her arms in front of her chest and casually leans on the edge of the nearest student desk, her eyes still staring at him, awaiting. He sighs once more.

"I apologise for what happened at Halloween. I was intoxicated. I was not aware of what I was doing… or saying."

Confused for a few moments, Ella asks with her eyes narrowed:

"And now you are suddenly magically aware of what you were not aware of at that time? I wonder who could have made you aware of it seeing that it happened between only you and me?"

"I have my way."

She delivers to him another narrow… and curious glare. The bloody curiosity that just can never stop working.

They stare at each other in silence for another full minute while Ella slowly digests what is going on. So here she is hearing Snape apologising… not once, but twice, and with proper explanations, barring the pathetic nonsense excuse… not that his reasons are reasonable, but at least he has reasons.

More importantly, he is communicating those reasons to her, in human language. This is beyond her wildest dream, indeed.

"I shouldn't have said that either."

Those words slip out while her eyes still bear firmly into his.

"I didn't mean to make that patronising comment. I was just thinking out loud and failed to keep it to myself. It was impolite of me. I owe you an apologise for that too."

She even can't figure out how they have managed that awkward goodbye, but they did. She has no idea what kind of hurricane has blown him up to the third floor to express to her his apologies.

She has no idea that their conversation in front of his quarters had been overheard by a certain thirteen year old boy who happened to be inside. She has no idea said boy had threatened not to talk to his dad ever, ever again if he wouldn't go and fix the broken heart of Professor Virtanen. She doesn't know, of course, that no thirteen year old boy in all heaven, hell and earth could have forced Severus Snape to do that if he had not indeed felt a little bit of guilt in himself…

She doesn't know any of that. The only thing she knows at the moment is that she is once more in the kitchen, baking him another batch of biscuits.


	20. Chapter 20 - Christmas

CHAPTER 20

 **CHRISTMAS**

This is the strangest Christmas ever.

Being alone on most occasions for a decade apparently doesn't make being alone at Christmas for the first time feel any less strange.

Plus, it just has to be exactly this Christmas that Tristan's parents finally surrender his stubbornness and for the first time since they knew each other, he is not fleeing to her to find peace for the holiday, physically or mentally. The rightful yet unwilling Heir of the noble Flandin house has finally stepped down, giving his place to his younger brother and an unusual absence to his best friend's Christmas.

Ella was not aware how unprepared she is for this void of familiarity until it hit her. On Christmas morning, she drags her dizzied self to Hogsmeade before the confinement that has been lasting the whole term officially drives her insane.

As her first glass of firewhisky runs half, another customer arrives in the pub at the back of The Three Broomsticks.

Actually, two of them.

"Oh… Good morning, Professor."

"Good morning, Harry," she replies.

She should then proceed to telling the boy that an underaged wizard like himself has no business to do in a pub, but she supposes it's the responsibility of his father, seeing that his father is standing right next to him.

"Good morning," she greets the plain black figure with a glance and a half smile, wondering how on earth he is surviving in the same outfit in all seasons.

"Good morning, Professor Virtanen."

"Call me Ella," she says simply and comes back to her glass.

"Can I go to Honeydukes?" Harry asks his dad hurriedly. "You can stay here with Pr… I mean you can stay here for your drink. I'll go alone."

"Honeydukes is most likely closed today. And you pestered me all morning to take _you_ here of a stupid butterbeer."

Ella is not sure whether it's because today is Christmas Day or because he is speaking to his son, but Snape sounds unusually warm and gentle. She has never heard this version of his voice before.

"Butterbeer is not stupid," the boy protests. "If Honeydukes is open today, they might have a lot of things on sale…"

"Aren't all the sweets you received this morning already enough?"

"It's not like I would eat all of them at once…"

"But…"

"I'll be right back!"

Snape sighs as his son ignores him and immediately disappears through the door. Ella smirks. There is a certain amount of fun in seeing him being wrapped around a teen's finger.

"Firewhisky?"

She absentmindedly pushes her bottle towards the colleague whose presence alone always grates on her nerves in a way that she can't comprehend.

Well, speaking about her nerves, he did ease them sometimes… at least once.

Unexpectedly, without his customary rejection to all kinds of offers, said colleague quietly obtains a glass from the bar and serves himself.

"Thank you."

Those are the last words articulated before a long, very long silence. The only thing that signals they are still alive is the sound of the glasses hitting the bar top and occasional sighs after each sip.

"Am I reminding you of her again?"

The sudden question leaves Snape startled. Ella's glance catches him before he manages to tear his look away from her.

"Every time I received that look from someone here, it always meant that I was reminding them of Lily Potter."

Snape remains silent. Ella reaches for the bottle and refills her glass.

"I'm very sorry about her."

The words, as soft as an echo from the far past, are followed by a deep inhale as she scowls in a large sip. The burning liquid continues on its journey to every corner of her veins. She hears a loaded sigh in reply.

Another long silence later, a silky voice quietly asks:

"What was wrong with the sea?"

Almost dropping her glass but managing not to, Ella swallows and gives him a cautious blink.

"It was obvious," he simply adds.

She takes another deep breath, feeling the heat accumulating in her airway. Staring into the air in front of her, she lets the answer slowly slip out:

"I lost my fiancé."

Her eyes move to the ceiling, searching for an anchor. Why is she talking about it again, after all this time?

And why to Snape, of all people?

"In a boat accident," she whispers, much more to herself than to anyone else.

"I'm very sorry about that."

"Thank you."

Snape is now studying her without any pretence to hide it, but she doesn't care any more. Memories, loss, the far past are slowly rising...

"Hello!"

Harry's voice abruptly cuts in the silence. He is back, the mop of hair spotted with tiny snowflakes, a bottle of butterbeer smoking in his hand.

"Honeydukes is closed," Snape says blankly.

"Yes."

"And you decided to fool around nevertheless."

"It's holiday."

"Irrelevant."

The boy answers with a so-what grin and climbs onto a chair next to his dad, between the two adults. Tilting his head, perhaps to digest the image of a firewhiskied Professor Virtanen that has never existed at Hogwarts before, he hesitantly asks:

"Uhm… Excuse me, Professor…?"

"Yes?," Ella smiles as she delivers a gentle look to him.

"Are you having some free time today?"

"Why?"

"I just wonder if you would like to drop by our quarters for a cup of tea."

Ella blinks.

"You know…," the boy continues, "I came to drink your tea and eat your food almost every weekend. Now that it's holiday and you are also here… I wonder if you would like to have a cup of tea at my place."

Ella pauses, a long pause. Before she manages to work out an answer, Snape puts in:

"In fact, if you do have some free time, please come for lunch."

Even Harry is apparently surprised at his dad's sudden hospitality. Ella is stuck between a good rolling of her eyes and the effort to refrain from it. Is this the same man who did let a lost muggle woman stand showered in a storm in front of his door without the slightest concern?

Snape, as usual, displays no facial expression that can be read. When the moments of surprise have passed, Ella nods with another smile:

"Thank you. I'd love to."

And so they leave. Ella walks side by side with Harry, casually answering his endless series of questions about what wizards and witches in other parts of the world do on Christmas and New Year holiday well until they reach the Potions Master's quarters.

This place she did step in a few months back, escorting a badly intoxicated Snape and…

Quite a memory it was, indeed.

Despite its larger size, the living area is not much different from the living room at Spinner's End. Bookshelves and piles of books dominate all possible space, leaving no room for non-sense decoration.

But through another door, further inside is a warm, bright kitchen with a modest dining table, a rather muggle, homey touch in this ancient magical castle. Which is ironic since Snape, the Snape everyone sees daily, is the furthest thing away from the concept of a muggle, shape or form.

"Please take a seat, Professor. Which tea would you like?"

Snape starts to do something with the kitchen while Harry presents to his guest an impressive collection of fresh herbs, the fragrant of which create a pleasant mixture flooding out the moment the lid is lifted.

"Well…", Ella chuckles, "maybe you can help me pick one because I have no idea which is what…"

"Oh… I see."

But instead of picking one of them and making the tea he is supposed to make, the boy departs on a passionate lecture about the names and functions of each herb and only ceases it when Snape interferes.

"I'm sorry," he grins shyly. "So which one would you like, Professor?"

Shaking her head amusedly, Ella points at a random bunch and mentally prays that it wouldn't turn out too bad. The boy doesn't have a chance to give another lecture about that particular herb because Snape is now transporting food to the table.

Wait, he is bringing food to the table?

Ella curiously blinks at the host:

"You… prepared this?"

"Yes," he answers blankly and continues with his job.

"Wow," she mutters to herself.

The fact that a wizard professor at Hogwarts, entitled to twenty-four hour per day service from an army of house elves who cook perfect meals, does prepare a meal by himself is already surprising. But not only that, this is Snape, the furthest thing away from the image of a man who cooks…

The meal is far from what one would call a Christmas feast. Modest, simple, yet smoking warm and still provoking a holiday spirit, especially in a woman who doesn't cook and is spending the first Christmas away from her family, away from her homeland.

Snape waves his wand for almost every task she has ever witnessed him doing, but now he is setting the table all in the muggle way. Slowly, patiently, very atypical of the Snape she knows… or she thought she knew.

After the delicious and homey lunch, returning to the living area where the household's own library is kept, Ella can no longer refrain from browsing it. The vast majority are of course Potions materials, but there are also various other subjects, focusing on different branches magic. Some of them she has never heard of, such as "magic of the mind"… Not that she actually knows much about magic itself.

To one end of the shelves is a different world, where the only thing that exists is Quidditch, Quidditch, Quidditch and Quidditch.

"This part is yours, I guess."

"Yes, it is," Harry replies with a proud smile. "Do you like Quidditch, ma'am?"

"I played in the school team at my basic school."

"Really?," he rounds his eyes.

"Yes."

"So you can fly on a broomstick?"

"Yes, I can."

The boy apparently used to believe muggles can't ride a flying broomstick.

"But I haven't played since I was sixteen," Ella adds.

"Why, ma'am?"

"When I finished basic school, I already knew I wanted to become a field ethnographer so I focused on training skills that are more useful for my future career."

"What skills did you train?"

"Mostly track and field, but also mountain climbing, hiking, swimming, skiing, things like that. The different ways to move from one place to another, basically."

"But you can ride a broomstick."

"Yes, but it's not suitable when I go on field trips. Problems range from inconvenience to actual danger when I can't do magic and travel alone on a broomstick. It's an entirely different story from flying in a Quidditch match or in other supervised contexts."

"I see. So you trained on muggle sports."

"Yes. Do you play muggle sports too?"

That brings a moment of sadness to the boy's face. He shakes his head.

"I always wanted to try some winter sports… But my muggle relatives never played any sports."

"Winter sports?," Ella raises and eyebrow. "Which one exactly?"

"I like all of them," he shrugs. "Skiing, ice-skating…"

"Ice-skating. We don't have the conditions needed for skiing here, but I think the frozen lake on the school ground would serve well for ice-skating, if you want to try."

The boy's jaw drops.

"I will teach you," Ella smiles. She has an impulsive urge to remove that piece of sadness from his face.

"But... I don't have any skaters…"

"I have a pair in my quarters. Maybe we can ask your dad to duplicate and resize them for you. They should last long enough for a thorough session of ice-skating."

The boy beams. Just a short while later, they find themselves at the lake, escorted by Snape, who is now charming the frozen surface to ensure its capability to support the activity.

Soon after Ella starts to hold the teen's hand to guide him through his first ice-skating lesson, the few other students who stay for the holiday seem to notice the scene and thus troop to the lake out of curiosity. Excitement wins over fear when they timidly receive more duplicates of the ice-skaters from Snape, sometimes with a glare as bonus, and embarks on experiencing the muggle sport, guided by the muggle professor and their muggleborn peers.

Laughter prevails. During the whole time Snape leans against a tree nearby and watches over them. The laughter brings to Ella's face an enduring smile, a smile so bright that there is not a slightest change when she secretly wipes away the drop of tear rolling down her cheek.

It has been a good ten years, ten years since the last time she was immersed in laughter on a lake's frozen surface, surfing on a pair of ice-skaters.

The session ends in good time before the duplication charms expire. The kids flock back to the castle, excited and well entertained. Returning Harry to his dad, Ella looks straight into the pair of black eyes:

"Please come for dinner at my quarters."

She is a far cry from being able to cook a proper Finnish Christmas meal, but she is sure the Hogwarts house elves are more than capable of that as long as she can give them names of the dishes.

Snape nods with a blank thank you while his son's face is covered in excitement.

This is the strangest Christmas ever.


	21. Chapter 21 - Back on a field trip

CHAPTER 21

 **BACK ON A FIELD TRIP**

It is extremely fortunate that Ella didn't attend Hogwarts as a child.

Even as a woman in her thirties who has scratched her skin on all kinds of surfaces on the earth, the temptation boiling in her blood while she leisurely walks along the edge of the Forbidden Forest is almost irresistible.

The holiday has passed in a blink. Professors and students have already trooped back to refill the castle and the school grounds.

She still can't believe the only socialisation she had during the entire holiday was with the Snape-and-Potter family. At the end of the previous term, she intended to pay visits to Sybill and Argus at some point within those two weeks and listen to the tales of their lives in this school, those that apparently differ from her own despite their similar backgrounds… no, their similar _magical status_.

However, the plan failed. She was simply too tired for that. To be honest, being with either of those two staff members is not the most relaxing scenario in the world ever. Her need for restfulness defeated her curiosity and concerns for them.

Speaking of relaxing socialisation, Snape is supposed to be the last option in the list, if he does exist on that list at all. Ironically, she did find that unexpected relaxation over the simple holiday meals with him and his little one.

The relaxation came into being at some point unnoticed. After all, he has seen her in her worst moments. He has seen her in a complete mess, embarrassing, pathetic. And what he did was to save her, pick up her mess, sort it out, invent a preventive measure for next time, then disappear and never speak of it again. One would easily see him grating on her nerves about the life debt she now owes him, but no, it doesn't happen. Even Harry doesn't seem to have a clue.

The rather quiet holiday gave Ella some time to contemplate on the first term of her teaching career and come up with a new plan for the second one. If she is honest with herself, this plan has much more to do with rescuing her own life from boredom than adding colours to the students' learning experiences, although the later does happen as a side effect. The entire population of teenage witches and wizards of Hogwarts, even the Slytherins, are inflated with excitement when the field trips for Muggle Studies class are announced.

The idea encountered a considerable amount of hesitation when it first hit the staff meeting table. It is understandable – an impaired professor taking bunches after bunches of magical teens out of the school's protected zone would require a whole lot of preparation, security measures and Merlin knows what else. That is not to mention Muggle Studies is not even an "important" subject. The only one apart from Professor Virtanen who displayed interest in the idea was the headmaster.

And yes, everybody's opinion is equally valid but some are more equally valid than others. A simple smile from Albus Dumbledore set the plan to action: Those field trips would happen in the manner Professor Virtanen wishes them to and each of them would be assisted by an assigned Head of House plus Professor Burbage when she is available.

Unfortunately, Ella's own confidence chips away and stress increases once she gets down to more detailed planning for each trip. She forgot to take into account the fact that Charity Burbage has no experience whatsoever with field trips. She is a pure theorist. And a pureblood witch who grew up in a pure magical community no less.

Stress also increases when Minerva, who will be with her on the first trip, doesn't bother to cover her unsupportive attitude towards the program, approved as it is. On one or two occasions, Ella is pushed far enough to almost yell at the messy teens in her classroom that field trips will no longer exist if they don't know how to behave themselves for once. While that does solve the immediate chaos, it also throws at her face the hard truth: the very weak discipline in her classes, a systematic, consistent problem. She gets more and more anxious when the trip approaches with the vision of Minerva bringing its failure back to the staff meeting table and having the whole thing simply shut down.

In the midst of all those worries, she feels an incomprehensible relief when a note from Albus arrives at her. Personnel for the first trip has changed: Minerva has some unexpected issues coming up and Snape will take over.

"We should reserve at least half an hour in the morning to check and fix the problems that _will_ occur regarding their muggle camouflage and plots of mischief," he says matter-of-factly when they sit down in her classroom one week before the trip for the last revision of the plan, an activity he himself has suggested.

Ella spins the pen in her fingers before jotting down the new idea:

"Yes. Although I trust they will manage with the camouflage. We have gone through that last term."

"If students would always manage with what they have gone through in class, I could very well go and remove all the security charms from my classroom now."

Ella chuckles. Ridiculous as she feels when she admits it, it is a blessing to have him in this first adventure. He is a perfect symbol of control. Control over the students, control over the situations. That basically solves any conceivable problems. She has seen him in action. It is certainly not true but it feels very true that nothing can go wrong under his watch.

She has never been this "obedient" to anyone else before. No teachers or bosses have ever succeeded in making her adjust her initial plans to this extent, leave alone colleagues. But well, she was trained to be an ethnographer, not a teacher.

Snape does deserve being listened to because he doesn't approach it as her job, which he is assisting out of duty. He approaches it as his own job. The morning of that important day, he shows up in her classroom while the rest of the school are in the Great Hall having breakfast. He too has ordered an early breakfast to his quarters and got it out of the way well before everyone else wakes up.

Ella is about to say "You could have joined me for breakfast" but it slips out of her mind too fast. She is intensely focused on the task at hand. Half of her mind is full of regret – perhaps she shouldn't have started all of this and be content with teaching from books and artefacts.

"It will be fine," Snape says blankly as he studies her.

She replies with a glance, slightly embarrassed by the fact that her stress and worries are spilling out all over the place. So much for an experienced field ethnographer.

The usual noise the kids always bring with them on the way to her class is abruptly blown out like a candle meeting a brutal wind when they realise who else, apart from the lenient Muggle Studies professor, is on the trip.

Order is established quicker than it has ever been in this classroom. Snape does not need to say a word: His presence alone puts the whole class into discipline at once, like a little army. Ella has no idea how she should feel about it – she doesn't want this kind of atmosphere in her classroom, but on the other hand, this makes the job so much easier.

"Very good, everyone," she addresses the unusually quiet bunch of third-year Gryffindors and Slytherins. "Now before we depart, let's have a look at the camouflage you have put on. It's a perfect cut, Mr Malfoy."

The blond boy conjures an expression that looks like enormous effort to refrain from a proud smile. Ella gives him the approving smile he deserves nevertheless and moves on to checking other kids' outfits.

"Mr Kellogg, you might want to revise your colour combination. If you go over there," she directs him to the station she has set up at the back of the classroom, "you will see the posters of this season's muggle fashion. I have put there also some items you can pick to change, or you can use magic you adjust your outfit if you so wish. Then please come back here."

Snape was totally right to reserve time for this checking. She clearly overestimated how well they have grasped the camouflage method, not to mention how much they actually care about it. The intended half an hour runs out in no time. Another half an hour later, they are still in the same classroom, now filled with impatient kids.

"Let's try again, Mr Longbottom," Ella keeps her voice as gentle as possible and looks the boy in the eyes, trying to comfort him. He is once again messing up himself on the receiving end of muttered complaints from his peers. "This time it's about style. Formal or informal. Try again. No stress, we will wait for you."

"Could you please help me, Professor?" he pleads with his entire being. "I can't…"

"You certainly can. Just try again," she puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Perhaps we should get Mr Longbottom a quick fix so that we can depart before he spends all day trying to figure it out, Professor Virtanen."

The venom in Snape's voice stabs her in the stomach like a real knife.

"Every student in Muggle Studies class is entitled to trials and errors, Professor Snape," she fights with every bit of her composure to remain calm, although her voice hardens nonetheless. "And we will wait for everyone to get it right before we depart."

The crowd falls silent. Ella swallows a sigh. Why? Why this? Why him? Why now? Just WHY?

"Go, Mr Longbottom," she slightly pushes the terrified boy towards the changing station. "Only a small change in terms of formality and your appearance will be perfect."

Neville obeys. Ella takes a deep inhale and tries to ease the constraint pending above their heads with a casual question:

"Anyone would like to share how you managed to obtain your muggle outfit? Of course those you brought with you from your muggle home don't count."

It works. The kids forget about Snape and turn to competing for a chance to tell their stories. That gives Neville enough time to remove the bow tie from his collar and untuck his shirt.

"Excellent, Mr Longbottom," she delivers a bright smile when the boy comes back and presents himself with all the fear in the world written all over his face. "Now we are all ready. Let's go through the rules again before we set off."

She sends Snape a look. She half expected to see a pissed off Snape, yet his expression remains blank. Blanker than it was before the kids arrived that is.

"We will stay within one area of the shopping centre, which will be specifically shown to you once we are there. The use of wands is strictly forbidden, the only exception being for self-defence _in life-threatening situations_. Immediate. Expulsions. From. Hogwarts. Applies. To. All. Other. Cases. Including. Unnecessary. Display. Of. Them. In. Muggle. Public."

Blood starts to dry out from the young faces as each word nails in.

"We will spend at most three hours in said area. Time to return to the gathering point is signalled by three whistles in a row from Professor Virtanen. Failing to present yourself within three minutes from the signal will result in a report and consequent disciplinary measures from your Head of House. Any question?"

Dead silence. Ella adds:

"While we are there if you are unsure whether you are allowed to or should do something or not, please don't hesitate to come and ask me."

She only lets out a sigh of relief when they have finally reached the destination by a portkey trip and a short walk. The kids' excitement and hyper curiosity soften her nerves. Keeping her fingers crossed for no trouble to happen as she is, she places great trust on them.

As soon as the last kid decides on which direction to go to explore the place, she immediately opens her notebook to jot down her thoughts before they disappear. Longer preparation time, a training session for safe and neat landing from a portkey trip… On another page, she starts sketching the area in further details.

"You take notes like a self-spelling quill."

Suddenly disrupted, she exclaims:

"You made me forget what I was about to write!"

"Sorry."

She looks up from the notebook to meet her colleague's smirk, which in turn brings a smile to her face. She thought he would continue to ignore her at least for a few days after their disagreement in front of the students, including his own son, this morning. She straightens herself on the bench:

"You didn't tell Harry you are going with us today?"

"He didn't need to know."

"I would feel betrayed a little bit in his position."

"He is accustomed to being treated like a normal student rather than a special case merely due to his father's job."

"I see. Good for him."

Ella starts to scan every corner in her sight for the kids. Things seem to be well in place. They are behaving as they are supposed to. At least in her sight.

"Did I really tear you away from all what you were about to write down?"

"Pretty much," she answers absentmindedly. "But it's fine. Just some notes to improve the later trips."

At the end of the day, this seems to be a nice idea. At least for herself. She is feeling like a long encaged bird returned to the sky. A leave from the castle, with some meaning, with people to observe, with a notebook.

And she even has a company, this time. Not that it's of any importance barring the student management issue.

"I'm getting some soft drinks. What would you like?" she stands up and slightly stretches.

"Anything."

A few minutes later, she secretly chuckles at the scene of Severus Snape holding a can of coke. No idea why every simple thing everybody does everyday looks so special on him.

After a short contemplation, she decides to bring it up. They are not having anything to do for these three hours anyway, apart from bracing themselves for potential trouble.

"I'm sorry about this morning. It was just that… the biggest problem with the Longbottom boy, in my class at least, is his lack of self-confidence. It's my first priority whenever it comes to him."

"Never mind."

The reply comes very quick, and very cold.

"I heard from the kids that he is not doing very well in your class either."

This time, no reply comes. That is if the scowl he throws into the air in front of him doesn't count.

Malfoy has just left a toy shop and is making his way to the bookstore next door.

"Thank you very much for all your help," she delivers gently. "I had been under great pressure until you offered to work with me on the plan."

"You were stressed out by the fact that no one except for Albus liked your idea."

Ella rounds her eyes. A flick of fear crosses her mind as the theme "magic of the mind" on his bookshelf comes back to her memory.

"It was obvious," he adds simply.

That is certainly not a comforting statement, but she is comforted nevertheless. This is not the first time she feels unsafe around him. And just like all of the previous times, the fear doesn't last until the third second.

"I'm like a troublemaker, aren't I?" she asks ironically. "Devising a plan that I can't manage by myself, forcing other professors to help. While everyone already has their own busy life."

"It's not your own work. It's the school's work."

Pausing for a moment, he continues:

"My laboratory takes up the largest proportion of the teaching aid fund, as you know. It is because the subject requires that resource. In your case, it is not money, but rather human resource. Same thing in different forms."

"It's a pretty unique way to look at it."

He shrugs. Since when has Snape shrugged?

"I hope the other professors will eventually see the benefits of these field trips. I'll try to refine the plans so that it will take less effort on their part."

Snape doesn't reply, either because he doesn't have a reply or because Ella has slid back into her notebook.

Three hours come to an end without any unexpected events, at least not that they know of yet. They find themselves back in the castle one hour before dinner, with the kids carrying several bunches of muggle things they obtained from the shopping centre. She is so proud of them. They even managed to spend muggle money. Hopefully without puzzling the shop assistants to the extent that the Ministry of Magic will send Albus an owl tomorrow.

"Miss Garland, can you tell us all again your assignment for today's trip?"

"Yes, Professor. An essay on our experiences today and our thoughts on them."

"Correct. And extra credits if you cite at least two sources apart from your textbook for relevant theoretical knowledge. Class dismissed."

When the trip's success story hits the next staff meeting, an unexpected move happens. With a mysterious twinkle in his eyes, Albus suggests:

"Do you think it will be a good idea if you permanently assist Professor Virtanen in future field trips also, Severus?"

Before Ella manages to digest what is going on, Severus gives a determined nod:

"Yes, headmaster."


	22. Chapter 22 - He and She

**_Author's note_**

 _I'm terribly sorry for the long delay! Hopes you continue to enjoy this :)_

CHAPTER 22

 **HE AND SHE**

"My durability is rotten!"

Ella exclaims as she throws herself onto the ground. Still breathing heavily, she immediately gets her pen and notebook down to work.

Beside her, her companion is breathing even worse.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience…," she says. "You could have apparated here first and just waited for me."

"That doesn't make sense," a blank answer comes in between his short breaths.

Ella taps the pen on her forehead:

"I'm having second thoughts. Should we remove this climbing part from the plan?"

"Not if it's part of what they need to observe."

"It certainly is, but it can also be explained in words. I'm just wondering if they can make it. What if they get exhausted in the middle of the way?"

"Then accompanied apparition. Or a backup portkey."

"Wouldn't that be too complicated to organise?"

"Not if it's necessary."

She studies the sweating wizard who has just accompanied her in a muggle-style mountain climbing session. A wizard who can both apparate and fly, no less. This might very well be the only time in his entire life he does this.

"I can't say how much I appreciate your help, Severus. You are really going out of your way to assist me with organising these trips."

"It's an assigned duty."

Ella quietly smiles. There is no point in debating with him. He knows very well where his assigned duty stops and his generosity starts. But who would expect Snape to openly acknowledge his own kindness?

"You have a scratch on your arm," he directs his look to a red mark freshly born into her pale skin.

"Oh…"

Absentmindedly, she searches her bag for the vial of dittany, only to find it completely empty.

"Dear Väinämöinen," she exclaims with annoyance, "I'm totally rotten!"

"You are not rotten, only scratched. What is _Vai-na-mei-nan_?"

"Never mind," she shakes her head and groans. "I mean my skills are rotten. I'm bringing along an _empty_ vial believing it contains dittany… After only half a year without actual field work I'm already rotten beyond repair!"

That is of course exaggeration, but she is in complaining mood and it shouldn't do any harm to overstate things a bit…

"You have been taking students on field trips this spring."

"I mean _actual_ field work… Well, never mind. Sorry about the fuss. Let's move on, shall we?"

"One moment."

Sparing no time for her to react, he points his wand at the scratch and mutters a spell. It functions basically the same as dittany. The scratch disappears.

"Thank you," Ella blinks. He never ceases to amaze her with his no-nonsense problem solving.

They get back on their feet and make way into the cave.

The cave, located in isolation on a mountain peak, is an archeological site that has just been discovered recently by both wizards and muggles. While the muggles are trying to figure out the kind of tools used by its former dwellers, specialists in the wizarding world are suspecting the presence of contemporary mainstream magic in said dwellers' circles. The current debate revolves around whether it was a community where muggles, wizards and witches openly co-existed in peace.

The moment the cave was checked as safe for general study visits, Ella wasted no time in obtaining a licence to take her seventh year students here. They are going to graduate soon, and such an opportunity to impress on them the many ways in which muggles and wizards and witches can co-exist shouldn't be missed. Plus, she would find herself on cloud nine if her classes happen to produce a few future ethnographers.

She is too focused on moving around, observing and scratching notes to notice that Severus is also being very focused, but on another thing. His wand loosely held in one hand and the other hand resting in his pocket, in total stillness and silence, he is looking at her.

He is looking at the shiny blonde hair apparently tied up for convenience more than for grooming. Then why would she grow her hair long in the first place? Not that he doesn't like it – his mind did get lost a few times at the staff table in the Great Hall, when the owner of this hair happened to sit in front of him at a meal. And a few other times, he did wish all professors, not only Heads of House, were obliged to attend meals there, since a certain professor chooses to eat in her quarters too frequently, citing laziness as her excuse.

In between her tied up hair and her low collar is the back of a full, elegant neck with a dot of freckle, which he can visualise very well even when it is hidden under a scarf. He wonders if she knows how beautiful she is every time that neck slightly turns for her to deliver a smile over her shoulder, partially revealing her eyes, as blue and clear as the summer ocean, the tip of her petite nose, and the elegant crook in the corner of her mouth. She is full-figured; her form carries the firmness of the world wanderer she once was – and still is. She surely has endured an uncountable number of scratches on that one arm alone – but that doesn't eliminate his need to remove the newest one from it.

"Can I sit down here?," he asks, pointing at the rocky floor where he is standing.

"Wait a minute," she immediately turns around and rushes towards him, her torchlight pointing straight forward.

"You checked it already when you entered," he shrugs, while she ignores him and scans the area around him all over again.

"Just to be on the safe side," she says absentmindedly. "Yes, you can sit down now."

As fast as when she came, she briskly walks back to the other side of the cave to continue her investigation without noticing the passionate look of her companion. Severus secretly smiles to himself. She is adorable. She is adorable when she gets immersed in her work at the fields. She is adorable when she engages in childish conversations with Harry. She is adorable when she hurries through a meal on a weekday, and when she eats leisurely at weekend. She is adorable when she carries a huge pile of books out of the library, peeking out half of her face from behind it to navigate. She is adorable at the staff meetings, when among all the quills and parchments, she stubbornly adheres to her muggle pen and paper, tilting her head over the notes, sticking out the tip of her tongue. Like Lily.

Like Lily.

Ella double checks the space next to Severus again before sitting down to make sure she won't accidentally damage any important artefacts. Sighing with relief, she throws the torchlight and notebook into her bag and pulled out two small rectangular bars.

"Do you want one?"

She absentmindedly hands one of them to Severus. He receives it and studies the packages with a frown.

"What is this?"

"Meal replacement," she answers while taking the first bite.

"Meal replacement?"

"Yes. For dinner."

She takes another bite and gives her tired eyes a massage. Severus rotates the bar in his hand:

"You eat this thing for dinner?"

"On field trips, yes. And for lunch too," she nods as she peels down the rest of the package and takes the last bite.

"That explains why you look so much healthier now compared to how you did before you started at Hogwarts."

They fell into a sudden pause. She gazes at him, who seems to be caught off guard.

"You remember how I looked before I started Hogwarts?," she slowly lets out every word.

He swallows and tries to avoid her look:

"It's easy to notice."

"I must have looked obviously terrible," she giggles.

Without a reply, he gives her back the meal replacement bar.

"You don't want it?," she blinks. "Are you sure?"

"Why would you need a meal replacement? Dinner is available at school."

"Yes but it's already dinner time now and it'd take hours before…"

She trails off and burst into laughter:

"Dear Väinämöinen! I'm stupid! I thought we were going to take the train!"

She swears she hears Severus Snape letting out a soft laugh too. She buries her face in her palms:

"My brain is rotten indeed."

"Let's go," Severus says blankly as he stands up, a trace of amusement still audible in his voice.

They apparate back to Hogwarts. The school ground is deserted and quiet as darkness slowly eats the days away. They can clearly hear the sound of their footsteps and Severus' billowing cloak.

He suddenly ceases his steps. Following the direction of his look, Ella sees the top of the Whomping Willow.

"What?," she asks.

"Please go to your quarters. Or the Great Hall. Quick!," he commands stressfully, still bearing his look at the tree.

"What? Why? What happens?," she insists.

The man pauses a few seconds, seeming to be milling thoughts inside his head.

"The Whomping Willow. It ceased its movements for a moment. I can't explain to you in details, but that means something wrong is going on. Could you find Albus in the castle and inform him about this? I'm going there to check it out now."

Ella gasps. She always feels very uneasy with the fact that Hogwarts is not as safe as people like to believe. They quickly exchange a nod before departing on their ways.

The Great Hall is filled with light, people and food. Ella struggles to not draw too much attention when she tries to approach Albus at the staff table.

"Albus," she whispers through the noise. "May I have a word with you in private?"

Slightly narrowing his eyes, the old man nods and stands up to follow her out of the Hall.

"Albus," she says anxiously when he closes the door behind him. "Severus and I are just back from a preliminary field trip. As we walked here from Hogsmeade, he noticed that the Whomping Willow had ceased its movements for a moment, and that worried him, so he had gone there to check it out and asked me to inform you about it."

Albus silently blinks several times. At last, he says softly:

"Please come with me, Ella."

Without delay, he turns on his heels. Ella feels puzzled by the fact that he is not heading to the Whipping Willow, until she realises – and gets startled – that they are heading to Remus' quarters.

"Albus?," she raises her voice, desperately seeking assurance. Fear is draining blood out of her.

Albus doesn't reply, for he seems to be concentrating hard on his thoughts. As they arrive at Remus' door, he knocks.

He knocks three times. No answer.

"Remus?," he calls. Still no answer. "Professor Lupin?"

He starts to frown.

"Holky?"

Ella gasps again. Remus' house elf is not responding. This is completely wrong. She unconsciously grabs the Alpha Charm on her neck to make sure it's still there.

"To the Whomping Willow. Now."

Albus commands shortly. Ella half walks half runs to keep up with his long, hurried steps. Her head is on the edge of exploding. Severus is there. And she is not. Stupid! Totally stupid! Why didn't she follow him there? Why didn't she realise that the full moon is hanging above them? Why did she let him go alone?

"Albus!," she exclaims, her voice lost in the evening wind and her own disrupted breaths. "What is there at the Whomping Willow?"


	23. Chapter 23 - Werewolf

**_Author's note_**

 _Thank you for dropping by and I hope you enjoy! Reviews are welcome and cherished._

CHAPTER 22

 **WEREWOLF**

Albus is too preoccupied to notice Ella's question. Once they reach the Whomping Willow, he conveniently throws a small piece of rock at a certain knot on its trunk. To Ella's astonishment, it ceases all its movements.

Her mind starts to put the pieces together as they proceed into a big hole at the tree's roots and enter a tiny dark tunnel. Her heart misses several beats when a terrifying roar hits her ears. It might just as well stop completely when the other end of the tunnel comes into sight.

It is a split second. A split second between the werewolf's deadly strike at Severus' face and her rush to throw herself in its way.

"STOP!," she yells at the beast. "STOP YOU RIGHT NOW!"

Blood boils in her entire system. There is no fear, nor is there anything existing within her in this moment apart from anger. No, it is RAGE. She opens her mouth to do just the one thing she so much wants to: Commanding the beast to _strike its own bloody face!_

But before she manages to articulate anything, the werewolf suddenly breaks free from the invisible restraints she has put on it. With flames in its eyes, it springs towards her…

"Step back, Ella!," Albus screams.

A spell hits just in time; the werewolf drops unconscious just an inch from her shaking legs. Layers of dust that must have been accumulated for decades are blown up all over the place.

The moment her soul makes its way back to her body, she turns around to look for Severus. He is lying immobile on the floor with one of his cheeks bleeding. Collapsing to her knees, she bursts into tears:

"Severus! No! I'm sorry!"

"Let me check him."

Albus kneels down beside her. After a quick investigation, he heals Severus' wounds with his wand.

"Severus?," he gently tugs the man's arm. "Can you hear me?"

No response. Ella cries:

"How is he, Albus? Why doesn't he wake up?"

"Don't worry, Ella. I believe he is not in serious harm. But Poppy will need to tend to him now."

Ella is still focusing all her attention on the injured colleague, praying for his eyes to open, when Albus calmly asks another question and by doing so gives her another heart failure:

"And how are you, boys?"

Her head snaps up. In the shade of darkness in front of her are two familiar figures, one with blond, tidy hair and the other with dark, messy hair. Both are holding their wands in their hands and have had blood drained out of their faces.

"What are you two doing here?! Mr Malfoy? Mr Potter?," she shoot the question at them with all the sternness she is capable of.

The next moment, she quickly gets back on her feet and rushes towards them. They are covered in dust and terror. Grabbing Malfoy's shoulders, she looks the child in the eyes and softens her voice:

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

The boy gasps. She wipes dust from his face with her fingers, picks up his hands to check them, scans the rest of him top to toe and thankfully, finds no wounds. No outer ones at least.

"Mr Malfoy?," she pats on his cheek. "Are you okay? Do you recognise me?"

Slowly, he closes his mouth and nods.

"Who am I?"

"Pr… professor… Virtanen."

Ella lets out a sigh of relief:

"Thanks my lucky stars. Are you hurt anywhere? Are you in pain?"

The boy swallows heavily and shakes his head.

"That's good. You should put this on. And put away your wand before you drop it."

She takes off her coat and wrap him up in it before turning to Harry, who has just received the same care from the headmaster, barring the coat, since he is wearing his own one.

"And you, Harry? Are you okay?"

"Yes, Professor," he replies between his short breaths, his eyes showing no spirit.

"Holky?"

Albus raises his voice and rights his glasses with a finger. Following his look, Ella sees in the corner across the room the form of a house elf. What's abnormal about it is that the elf is lying absolutely still.

The headmaster briskly walks towards it and after a glance, he announces coldly:

"Holky is dead."

"It's Malfoy! Malfoy killed him!," Harry cries out loud.

Dead silence drops over their heads as all eyes are directed towards Malfoy.

"Is it… true, Mr Malfoy?,"Albus asks, his face reveals no emotions, which makes it more frightening than ever.

"He did! I saw him do it!"

"Mr Potter."

The headmaster silences Harry with a slight raise of his hand. Unconsciously, Ella lays her hand on Malfoy's shoulder. He replies, choked by his own breaths:

"Y…yes, sir."

Ella almost faints. She thought being stuck in the middle of a tribal war were the most stressful experience she could ever have. Well it had been true, until this moment.

"Very well," Albus concludes after a long contemplation. "We go back to the castle now, and then you two can explain it to me in my office."

Wasting no more time, he conjures two stretchers from thin air and with his wand places Severus and Holky on them. He then summons three house elves, orders two of them to transport the professor and the deceased elf to the Infirmary unseen, with a note he has quickly scribed to Poppy, and gives some secret commands to the other elf before leaving it tending to the unconscious werewolf.

Ella is torn between two options. On one hand she is worried to half dead about Severus' conditions and wants to follow him to the Infirmary; on the other hand she is worried to the same extent about the two boys and can't help but longing to hear what they have to tell.

Too tired to think, she lets intuition lead her way and ends up following them to the headmaster's office. Not until they arrive at the gargoyle does Albus gives her a questioning look and does she realise she might not be expected in the meeting by default.

"Headmaster… May I be present and hear the story?," she asks hesitantly.

Albus thinks for a moment before giving his nod of approval.

The office sheds lights on the two boys and reveals further just how bad a mess they are being.

"First we need to clean you up."

Albus raises his wand towards the boys. With two gentle flicks, the boys come clean. That, however, doesn't make them look any calmer.

"And before we talk, I assume you all need dinner. Please follow me."

They make way into another part of Albus' quarter, where there is a large dining table decorated with complicated antique patterns.

"Please take your seat."

Nonetheless, the two boys remain still and are apparently busy shooting dead glares at each other. Eyeing Ella, Albus gestures across the room:

"There is another dining space behind that door. Professor Virtanen, could you be there with Mr Potter? I'll have food served to you in an instant."

"Yes, Headmaster. Come, Mr Potter."

Ella turns on her heels and guide Harry along with her hand placed on his shoulder.

The second dining space is smaller and more cozy. Food appears on the table even before they sits down. She skips the "Enjoy your meal" part because it doesn't seem to fit the situation at hand. They eat in silence until she realises she is the only one who is eating.

"You should eat," she tells Harry. "Don't just pick at your food."

Startled, he gives her a timid look before forking a tiny piece of potato and feeding it to himself.

"Eating is important. Starving yourself on top of your problems won't solve your problems."

"I don't want to eat."

He replies coldly and puts down his cutlery.

"Look at me, Harry."

Without much delay, emerald eyes rise to meet hers.

"Now listen."

She pauses to let that sink in. Once she has got his undivided attention, she speaks clearly and slowly:

"I don't know what has happened, or what is coming for that matter. I know though that this is not the end of the world yet. We sure are in a lot of trouble right now, granted it's really big trouble, but we will deal with it, have it resolved, and move on. To do that you need a lot of energy and that's why it's important to eat."

Harry blinks at her, and she blinks back. To her relief, the boy picks up his fork and starts eating, although tiresomely.

"Good boy."

"Are you mad at me?"

Ella freezes. Something tugs at her heart. She looks the child again in the eyes:

"Why are you asking?"

He doesn't answer, but drops his head between his shoulders.

"No I'm not," she says while continuing with her food as if the matter were of no importance. "Do I look like I am?"

"It's not my fault."

Ella sighs. She is about to tell the child to focus on eating, but dismisses that intention. He has finished half of his meal, and it's unrealistic to expect a thirteen year old, or a thirty year old for that matter, to remain in normal behaviour after all that. And she has not even seen all of it.

"We will come to that part soon. Want an extra piece of cake?"

She hands him her dessert with her signature sweet-giving smile. It works. His face relaxes.

"Thank you, Professor."

"You are welcome. And eat it."

After being properly fed, everyone in the office looks calmer, except Minerva who has just arrived. Harry quietly slides behind Ella's back, but when she notices, she turns her own position to expose him. The serious talk needs to begin.

It's never easy trying to put together a story when the narrators are young teens, and much less so in the case of troubled young teens. The story flows out slowly and in no way smooth or organised. Ella is glad she is not the one who has to ask questions and drive the conversation. Just hearing it and trying to make sense of it is enough to cause her a headache. And today's story far exceeds her headache threshold.

It all started when Malfoy saw Remus running across the school yard, followed by a house elf, towards the Whomping Willow. He was standing close enough to follow them both, and so he did, managing to enter the tunnel before the tree resumed its movements. What he didn't expect is that he was in turned followed by another person, who was Harry.

They both witnessed Remus transform and ignored Holky's plead that they go back to the castle. Malfoy was determined to capture Remus in his current form and expose him. Both Harry and Holky fought to stop him while Holky had to simultaneously make sure Remus stay in magical restraints. And at some point amidst the chaos, Malfoy cast a spell that kills Holky on the spot. The only reason they had not yet been eaten is that Severus showed up JUST in time to fight the werewolf, although unsuccessfully in the end…

"The Killing Curse?"

Minerva totally freezes on the spot. Albus loses the last drop of his calm appearance. His eyes blink rapidly and he seems to be breathing through his mouth.

"Was it, Mr Malfoy? Did you cast the Killing Curse?"

"I…"

Ella buries her face in her palms. If only this were just a dream and she were going to wake up in her quarter, undisturbed. Or better still, wake up in one of the rooms of The Leaky Cauldron and leisurely walk downstairs to tell Tom about her wild dream of being a Hogwarts professor and all.

"It's just a house elf!," Malfoy bursts out.

"Answer my question, Mr Malfoy. Did you cast the Killing Curse?"

His entires form is shaking wildly, his face now covered in tears.

"Mr Malfoy? Yes or no?," Albus pushes.

"All right! Yes! I did! It's just an elf!"

Albus sighs loudly:

"Very well. I am afraid we will have to invite your parents here right now to discuss this, Mr Malfoy. As for Mr Potter, you will report to Professor McGonagall for discipline tomorrow, and your father will also be informed when he is well again. Since Professor Snape needs his rest now, I will need your presence here while we meet with Mr and Mrs Malfoy, Minerva."

"Yes, Headmaster," Minerva replies. "May I ask you to escort Mr Potter to the Gryffindor's Tower, Ella?"

"Certainly, Minerva."

Ella stands up, exhausted and dizzy, even though none of all this is her immediate responsibility.

"Professor," Harry pleads. "May I go to the Infirmary real quick, please? I want to make sure dad is fine. Please, Professor?"

"Mr Potter…"

Tears escape Harry's eyes, and seriously who can blame him?

"If he may, Minerva," Ella speaks up, "he can go with me. I 'm also planning to drop by there quickly and after that I will accompany him to his dormitory."

"Very well," Minerva nods. "Then you may go with Professor Virtanen, Mr Potter. Thank you, Ella."

"Not at all. Come, Mr Potter."

Delivering a quick goodbye to all who stay, Ella leaves the office with Harry. Neither speaks, but she can feel the deep connection between them as they walk along the dark, deserted corridors. They both have one burning concern in mind.

The Infirmary's lights have also gone out, except only those in Poppy's small office in its corner.

"Severus is fine," she reassures the visitors. "He was just terribly stressed and exhausted so I put him to sleep. He will be released tomorrow morning if nothing arises."

Ella raises a suspicious eyebrow at the phrase "put him to sleep", but anyway, it's good that he is fine and sleeping.

"And Holky?," she asks.

Poppy sighs:

"The elves are holding his funeral."

"Harry, could you wait for me outside? Just one minute," Ella gently pushes the boy towards the office's door.

He obeys. She turns back to Poppy:

"And Remus? Was he brought to you?"

"Yes. He is fine too, resting in his quarter with the help of a new house elf."

Ella sighs with relief.

"Have you found out what went wrong though? Did the Wolfsbane not work?"

"Strangely, I think he hadn't taken his dose for this month."

"He hadn't?"

Poppy shrugs:

"That's what his blood sample showed. I guess we just have to wait until he gets up to know exactly what happened."

"I see."

On their way back to Gryffindor's Tower, Harry suddenly asks:

"Did you know he is a werewolf, Professor?"

That hits Ella hard. She has totally forgot about that. Two students have witnessed Remus transform with their own eyes, and none of the Professors involved remembered to talk to them about that part of the story.

"Yes, I did, Harry."

He sticks his eyes to her, expecting more.

"I want you to know that a lot of measures have been in place to keep all of us safe. I hope you are still glad to have him as your teacher."

The boy drops his head again.

"In fact, if you two hadn't decided to follow him where you were not supposed to go, no harm would have been done."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm glad you are. Don't do that again."

"He didn't tell me. I thought we were friends."

"I'm sure he would let you know when he thought was the right time. The right time might have not come yet."

Silence.

"It's not something he could easily talk about, even to people close to him. If you put yourself in his shoes, you will understand why he has yet to inform you about it."

"Will he continue teaching?"

"That I am not sure. But in the meantime, keep the information to yourself, will you?"

The boy looks at her without a reply.

"If you need to talk about it, come talk to me. If you need to talk about it tonight, write it down and ask the house elf named Ara to bring your notes to me. I promise to reply to you tomorrow the latest. The important thing is let us keep it just among ourselves until further notice, which I believe will come very soon. Agreed?"

"Yes, Professor."

Just then, they arrive at the dormitory.

"Good. Now go and rest well."

"You too, Professor."

Ella's headache builds up quickly and reaches an unbearable point when she arrives at her own quarter. Even a long, warm shower can't take it away. Perhaps it's her brain's defence against the amount of questions and thoughts and emotions that will smash it into pieces if let loose.

"Ara?," she calls tiresomely.

"Yes, Professor?"

A glance at the elf breaks her heart. She is wearing a black ribbon on her chest and her eyes full of tears.

"My condolences to all of you, Ara. I'm very sorry about what happened to Holky."

"Thank you, Professor," she replies, a huge drop of tear leaving her eye. "You have a kind heart, Professor. How can I help you, Professor?"

"Do you have vodka in your supplies?"

"Yes, Professor. Should Ara bring you some?"

"Yes, please. The strongest vodka you have."


	24. Chapter 24 - Chaos

CHAPTER 24

 **CHAOS**

"Mmm…"

Ella moans and lazily rubs her eye with the back of her hand.

The clock on her night stand says it's twelve.

The little bit of sunlight that has intruded through the curtains further elaborates that it's noon.

"Awww…"

She moans louder. She hates waking up at noon. It makes her feel the need to remain in bed for the rest of the day.

She grabs the pillow and buries her face in it to hide from the sun. Sleep, Ella. Sleep.

But the pillow's pressure only makes her eyes more awake. Besides, her stomach has started screaming.

"Arrrrg…"

Grumpily, she slides out of bed and drags herself into the bathroom.

She forces her mind to immediately arrange things into a to do list before its mess knocks her out again. Because, unfortunately, here she has waken up and yesterday was still not a dream as she hoped. It was reality.

She is having no appetite for breakfast, or rather, brunch. She decides to visit the Infirmary first and lets the walking whet it.

All the fatigue goes away at once when she steps in the Infirmary. Severus is sitting on the edge of his bed, seeming to be righting himself and preparing to leave.

"Severus."

She smiles brightly and briskly approaches him. He calmly greets:

"Good afternoon."

"I assume you are well?"

"I believe so. Thank you."

"Dad!"

Ella turns to look over her shoulder. Harry has just arrived and after the exclamation shot himself straight into Severus'…

…er… open arms. That's strange, she knows, but it's his son, of course he too knows how to hug…

"Good to see you are up."

The cold, silky voice comes from a man who slowly walks in with a dead glare fixed on Severus. Ella frowns. That glare disturbingly resembles the ones usually exchanged between Harry and Malfoy.

"What's your errands here, Black?," Severus hisses.

"A meeting with Professor Dumbledore," the man answers with a straight face. "Of course I also saw Remus and strangely he hasn't received his regular potion this month, well until and past the full moon."

"It's his responsibility to ask for it! No one here is his servant!," Severus barks.

The other man narrows his eyes and speaks through his teeth:

"Or Professor Dumbledore might just have trusted the wrong…"

"SHUT UP!"

"No! Severus!"

Ella screams as she summons all her strength to slap the wand away from Severus' swinging hand. It flew all the way to the corner across the room, the spell shot from its tip drills a hole on the ceiling.

Ella gasps. What the hell has she just done?!

Severus' glare moves to her, his eyes flaming like a forest fire.

"NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! GET OUT!," he yells.

"Sorry, Severus, I…," she pleads.

"GET OUT!"

"Please dismiss yourselves, all visitors!," Poppy shows up and commands sternly. "Instantly, please!"

The Infirmary's door closes behind them, leaving all of them giving each other clueless looks. Or maybe it is only Ella who is dumbstruck.

"Sirius, what…," Harry asks all confused.

"Ahh… I'm sorry, Harry. We should have talked in private," the man sighs.

"But what were you two talking about? Remus…"

The man sighs louder:

"You shouldn't concern yourself with this. It's among us the adults. I'm sorry, Miss," he turns to Ella and holds out his hand. "I'm Black. Sirius Black."

"I'm Virtanen," Ella shakes his hand. "Professor of Muggle Studies."

"Aha," he smiles. "Professor Virtanen. I'm glad to meet you. Harry talks about you all the time."

She eyes Harry.

"I'm his godfather," the man named Black continues. "I come today to discuss with Professor Dumbledore about my new job here as Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"DADA?," Ella rounds her eyes. "So Professor Lupin…"

Black sighs again:

"The headmaster believes it is better for Professor Lupin to resign before the parents unleash an outrage. It's unfortunate, but it's the best solution for now."

"I see...," Ella muses. "So he is leaving?"

"Yes, she is leaving together with me and we are also taking Harry out with us for lunch. May I invite you to join us?"

The man makes a classy slight bow and head tilting, much similar to Tristan's way, but less likable. To her, at least.

"Thank you, Mr Black," she smiles blankly. "Unfortunately, I have plans today. I hope you'll have a good time."

"Oh," he replies with a drop of disappointment. "what a pity. Maybe next time. Please call me Sirius; we are going to be colleagues already tomorrow."

"Yes. Sirius. Well, I should be on my way. See you later. Goodbye, Harry."

She delivers a quick smile to Harry, but not his godfather, and quickly turns on her heels.

Next on her list is Remus, and she had better hurry before he leaves. She is saddened by the thought of never seeing him again. Unconsciously, her hand moves to touch the Alpha Charm on her neck.

And that strikes her. Badly.

She ceases her steps and leans again the closet wall to keep herself from collapsing. Yesterday's memory comes back, clearly, vividly.

Her hands try in vain to grab the wall for an anchor.

The Alpha Charm has broken.

It stopped working yesterday. It stopped when...

"Oh my universe...," she exclaims to herself.

She has ruined it. She has broken the bonds between werewolfkind and the Alpha Charm carriers. And she did so in the worst way possible.

For a moment she had the intention to harm him. Remus, her friend, her kind and gentle colleague, of all werewolves in the world.

Overwhelmed, she half walks, half runs back to her quarter. Remus... She can't bring herself to see him, ever, ever again! She roughly wipes away the drop of stupidity before it manages to escape her eye.

"Ara!," she throws herself in the dining chair in her kitchen. "Bring me lunch please, and with a bottle of..."

She trails off and hits her face with her palms. No. Not now. Refrain. Refrain, Ella. REFRAIN.

"Professor?"

"... with a pot of calming tea, Ara."

"Should Ara prepare a larger portion, Professor, for Ara did not see Professor have breakfast?"

"Yes," she says without looking up. "And please bring me also a copy of the Daily Prophet."

The next twenty minutes, she skims through lines after lines of the news without actually making sense of anything. The paper is only there to distract her long enough to let her swallow her lunch, merely against starvation. It does help to calm her nerves a bit, however.

She has barely finished the meal when someone knocks on her door.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

The boy is at her door, alone, absolutely terrified.

"Professor...," he cries. "Remus... They arrested Remus!"

"What?!"

"They took him away when we were at the Infirmary!"

"How is that even possible?! Does the headmaster know?"

"Professor Dumbledore was out for a meeting at the Ministry about Malfoy! Professor McGonagall couldn't stop them because they had... they had... papers from the Ministry."

"And your godfather..."

"He followed Remus to the Ministry."

The boy supresses his tears but his eyes are all swollen, visible even behind his glasses. Ella furiously massages her temples.

"Do you want some calming tea? Come in."

As usual, he follows her inside. Ella doesn't bother to bring the tea to the living room. She leads him straight to her kitchen.

The boy anxiously plays with his cup while his professor slowly traces her fingers on the surface of her cup, staring thoughtfully at the... the liquid, whatever colour it is.

After a long silence, she takes a sharp inhale:

"Nothing we can do now, I'm afraid. I will ask my friend to help Remus with his legal procedures."

"Sirius said he would find a lawyer immediately."

She eyes the boy questioningly:

"May I ask... I'm sorry if it's impolite to ask, but private lawyers tend to be quite expensive to hire. Do you think he can... manage?"

"I think he can, Professor. He is... rich."

"Uh huh. That's good to know," she nods. "Then I think we have a bit less to worry about."

The boy's breaths ease out.

"You said the headmaster was meeting at the Ministry about Mr Malfoy?"

"He was expelled."

An invisible weight drops down her stomach.

"Already?"

"The Slytherins said he had left during the night. He will be brought to court because he committed the Killing Curse."

"An Unforgiveable," Ella mutters to herself. "Not surprising. But still, poor boy."

"A... what, Professor?"

"Never mind."

She lets out a deep sigh and studies the child. He has quite properly calmed down.

"You should go home, or go back to your dormitory, and rest. Don't worry, it will be fine."

The boy leaves, and the excessive amount of calming tea puts Ella to sleep for the rest of the evening.

She continues to shut herself behind close doors and eats dinner alone. After the meal, however, she decides to go out.

She absentmindedly makes her way down several stair flights to the dungeons. Gathering all her courage, she knocks.

The door sharply slides open to reveal the familiar all back figure.

"Severus."

"How can I help you?," he snaps at her with an ice cold voice.

She sighs:

"I come to apologise. I didn't mean to. I just..."

She is cut short by the door slamming before she even finishes.

She shuts herself in her quarter once more, too exhausted to think about anything further. She is unaware of the time, and so she doesn't know what time it is when Tristan calls, his face covered in excitement.

"How are you, my lady? I would like to inform you I just..."

He trails off, a frown forms on his forehead at once.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Ella answers blankly. "You just what?"

Tristan doesn't answer. Instead, he studies her, his image in the mirror twisted by the fireplace's flames.

"I have the feeling we should meet so you can vent about that nothing," he says with a serious voice and glances at his watch. "How about..."

"How am I supposed to tell you about nothing? Nonsense," Ella lets out her words tiresomely.

"We will meet tonight, Ella, because you are holding a glass of vodka in your hand and you are crying."

"How do you..."

"How long does it take you to reach the gate from your quarter?," he cuts her short.

She stares at her best friend for she doesn't know how long, while he is waiting patiently.

"Fine, if you insist," she finally sighs.

"Good. So how long? And you are going to walk, not ride your broom."

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes. I will see you at the gate."


	25. Chapter 25 - The Nothing Thing

**Author's note**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 25

 **THE NOTHING THING**

"A butterbeer for me and a warm lemonade for her please."

"What?," Ella protests. "Why are you ordering for me? I don't want lemon…"

"Because that's the only thing you are going to drink now."

"I'm not your child!"

"No, but you are my friend and…"

"So a butterbeer and what?," the owner of the Hog's Head pub interrupts grumpily.

"Warm lemonade, sir, thank you," Tristan insists.

The old man instantly gets on his way. Ella sighs and drops her head between her shoulders. The heat in her breaths almost burns her skin. Her stomach is simmering, ready to spill out everything in it given the slightest stimulation.

Tristan quietly places a Silence Charm around them as soon as the drinks are served. Ella asks without looking at him:

"How did you know I was drinking vodka? It might have been water."

"Do you seriously not know how I knew?"

He studies her while taking a classy sip from his glass. She sighs again and starts playing with her fingers and nails.

"So what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Silence endures while Tristan rotates his glass and Ella keeps scratching her nails against her fingers.

"I see," Tristan muses, "I'm here to listen when you are ready to talk about that nothing, and I'm here too in case you never want to."

Ella consumes her lemonade bottom up and carelessly slams the empty cup on the dusty bar top:

"You were about to tell me some good news."

"Well, yes, but…"

"What is it?"

"Nothing important."

"I like to hear about unimportant things too."

He chuckles. She glances at him and delivers a half smile.

"Well," he shrugs, "my team have just finished the project we have been working on the past few years."

"What project?"

"Criteria for assessing minority rights' assurance in justice systems. Now they are ready to be proposed to the International Union of Magic."

"Big deal!," she exclaims. "Why have you never told me about it?"

"I did. It's you who forgot about it."

"Congratulations then," she slightly turns to prop the side of her head on her fist. And against her will, she yawns.

"It's time you get some sleep, I suppose."

"No. I don't want to go back in there."

Tristan frowns. After a minute of contemplation, he suggests:

"How does it sound to you to spend tonight at Harvard for a change? And getting around a bit tomorrow. Hopefully it will refresh you."

"Are you joking?," Ella snorts. "How am I supposed to conjure a permit to enter the States in the middle of the night like this?"

"Jeez," he waves her off. "You can apply for it at the border. Shouldn't take long once they see that you have been basically everywhere else in the world."

"Far from everywhere else. Don't exaggerate."

"Fine. Well?"

Ella pauses for a moment before checking her bag to see what documents she is having with her.

"I do have enough papers here, I suppose," she mutters.

"I would be surprised if you didn't. Let's go."

They arrive at Tristan's quarter at precisely midnight. He hasn't changed much since the last time she visited his student apartment in Finland. Everything is clean and organised and brings forth the atmosphere of a monastery.

"Want a cup of tea?," he asks while hanging up his cloak.

"No. Plain water will do."

Tristan leaves living room for a short while and comes back with a big jar of water. He comfortably throws himself in an armchair, facing her on the couch:

"I have asked my house elf to prepare the guest room for you."

"Thank you, but I don't think I will sleep."

He raises an eyebrow:

"What do you plan to do then?"

"Can I read that set of criteria you are going to propose to the International Union?"

"Sure thing," he grins. "But I can also entertain you by presenting it to you orally."

"Sounds good," she nods.

The next one hour wakes up a lot of memories. She is once more sitting as an attentive member of audience, milling thoughts in her mind while a presenter moves back and forth on the stage, giving a long talk on a topic she cares about. She remembers the first time she attended a presentation by Tristan at their university. She has forgot the content, but recalls very well his thick accent and the occasional French words that entered his speech by accident. Matti was on her side, and at the end of it, he whispered:

"His eyes look even sadder when he's up there. We've got to cheer him up more often."

"Or just let him be happily sad as who he is," she shrugs.

"You make no sense."

"That's my own logic."

Time flies. Matti and she did manage to cheer him up more often. He became significantly more cheerful when her parents offered him a shelter during the holidays when he found it hard to go home.

"Questions? Comments? Feedback?," the present Tristan holds out his hands.

"For now, no. But I might send you some later when they come up."

"Perfect," he bows jokingly and comes back to his armchair. "I'm surprised though that you were not taking notes. Who are you and what did you do to Ella Virtanen?"

"I made her work as a teacher," Ella chuckles. "She had to learn to take mental notes when listening to presentations because if she did it physically, the kids would feel as if they had not been listened to or be panicked wondering what their teacher was writing down about their work and whatnot."

"Interesting," Tristan grins. "Now you are an advanced note taker."

"I will need a copy of the material though, for later reference."

"I will give you one tomorrow."

Ella takes a large sip of water and absentmindedly plays with the quilt she is wrapped in:

"I think I will get this school year over with and come back to ethnography work."

"Uh huh?," Tristan raises and eyebrow.

"Was some interesting experiences, but I'm tired," she shrugs.

"Does sound like what you would do. But did this decision come from the nothing thing?," he bends forward and rests his elbows on his knees.

"What the hell is 'the nothing thing'?"

"You know what I mean."

Ella lets out a deep sigh and lies down, leaning her head on the couch's armrest. She studies the ceiling. Why is it so excessively high?

"A student committed an Unforgivable and was expelled. Will be tried, of course."

Tristan remains still as if he had heard nothing. She eyes him expectantly.

"If you are wondering why I'm not stricken, you might have forgot that I did one of my internships at a juvenile court in Manchester."

She moves her gaze back to the ceiling:

"And one of the professors was arrested today."

Just like that, she lets pieces of the last two days flow out. In the end, she rests an arm on her forehead:

"I don't even know why I'm feeling so down. To be fair, little of all that is my own business."

"That is because you always care deeply about everyone around you and granted it has been an extraordinarily eventful two days. Totally logical that it stroke you."

"Care deeply?," she chuckles bitterly. "I abused the power of the Alpha Charm just a short while after I came aware of it. So much for someone who cares…"

"Well, I must insist that most human beings would be inclined to doing so. It's just our nature, unfortunately."

"You are just saying so to comfort me, aren't you?"

"Fine, more reasoning here if you wish. You are not a hermit. Hermits lead an extreme lifestyle focusing on purifying their minds. It's unrealistic for you to expect the same purity from yourself. I believe that's why the hermit who granted you the charm chose not to inform you too much about it. Professor Dumbledore on the other hand…"

Those are the last words she hears before sliding into sleep.

The next morning, Tristan shows her around the campus. She gets excited after meeting a few people whose works she has read but whom she has not met in person or corresponded to. Some of them also knew her in the same manner.

They decide to visit Salem before she gets back to Hogwarts. For some reason, the monument of the Salem Witch Trial's victims sends her into silence when she stands before it, gazing at each and every feature of the statues.

"Appalling how far pure ignorance can take people," she sighs.

"Never again. I hope," Tristan replies quietly.

"Me too."

"I think I will visit your colleague Remus where he is being kept."

Ella abruptly turns to look at him:

"He'll have his own lawyer. Besides, he won't see you if he hears that you are my friend."

"You can't say for sure what he will or will not do," he shrugs. "But I will visit as a minorities' rights activist."

They are back at the gate of Hogwarts at nightfall. Tristan gives her a goodbye hug:

"Take care. Write that letter of resignation and enjoy the rest of your time here."

For some reason, that sounds a little uneasy to her, but she ignores it.

"Let me know how Remus is after you visit him."

"I will."

She leisurely makes way to her quarter. The evening wind erodes her thoughts bit by bit, until her minds come comfortably clear.

"Professor Virtanen?"

It's an unfamiliar voice. She looks around and finds the new colleague she has no desire to spend private time with.

"Professor Black," she greets with a lack of enthusiasm.

"Sirius," he corrects. "How are you? You seem to have been away today."

"I have. May I ask how Remus is?"

"Certainly not so good, but as fine as he can be in such a situation, I trust. I heard you are from Finland?"

"Yes..."

The man spends the rest of the walk to the castle asking her questions about herself, which she is less than eager to answer but has to, out of politeness. It's great relief when they part on the first floor.

The evening goes by in peace. Before going to bed, she stands at her office desk, in her nightgown, staring at the quill standing still in the ink pot.

Taking a deep inhale, she sits down and carefully scribes:

LETTER OF RESIGNATION


	26. Chapter 26 - You will be missed

**Author's note**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 26

 **YOU WILL BE MISSED**

The letter of resignation rests there, half finished. Ella doesn't know why. She just feels like it would be better completed later.

She wakes up earlier every morning and spends quiet time viewing the dawn from the castle's third floor. She eats in the Great Hall more often, arriving early to take a spot from which she can see everyone. She also opens her door wider for students' visits and even secretly makes a list of what she wants to say to each of them before the school year ends.

She gives away some of the artefacts to a few students who are interested in social and wizardkind studies. Among them is Hermione Granger, who receives a generous collection of books. The process is disguised as an annual cleanup, and she trusts none of them realise she has been driving conversations away from the topic of "next year".

Harry comes to her way more often to bring news about Remus, or rather, to vent about it. She had been taking care not to make him, or any other student, her favourite, because teachers are not supposed to have favourites. But now she cares no more. She does like to have him around and they do share certain concerns, which is not the case with other students, so she allows herself to enjoy it while it lasts.

The Malfoy boy's trial takes place the next Saturday. Looking at him from her witness' chair, she can't help but feels everything in her torso melt with sadness. He looks as if he had grown several years in the course of one single week. Across the room, the woman she assumes to be his mother has been reduced to tears.

Walking out of the courtroom, she is torn between feelings. On one hand, she is relieved that the boy is let off with a suspended sentence; on the other hand, she is deeply upset by the way the murder of a house elf is treated almost as if it didn't matter. All the trouble, however, slips off her mind quickly. Her physical being is still here, but her soul is no longer held fast by the anchor of Hogwarts and its issues.

"I'll wait here," she sits down in a corner of the busy square around the Magical Brothers monument.

Tristan gives her a nod before leaving for the detention unit. She learnt from Harry that Black still has not managed to find a lawyer who is willing to defend a werewolf, therefore Tristan decided to pay his activist visit as soon as possible.

Righting herself on her seat, she opens the newspaper to the job advertising page. Well, one is quite unlikely to find an academic job on a newspaper, but she does it nevertheless without much thinking. In some wild moments she even contemplates applying for a tourist guide post. That would be fun, except that no one would hire a magickless tourist guide.

Putting the newspaper away, she takes out a pile of homework assignments and starts grading them.

"Excuse me, Miss? What are you doing here?"

Some very unpleasant voice asking a less than pleasant question. She looks up and finds the security guard.

"I'm waiting for my friend who is visiting a detainee in the detention unit, sir. Am I not allowed to?"

Surprised by her defiance, the guard shoots her some looks before walking away without a word. She shakes her head with annoyance. Why does reading a newspaper not draw any attention but scratching red scripts on a pile of parchment does? And no, you don't come to Ella Virtanen asking less than sensible questions when she is not in good mood.

Tristan returns way later than she expected, which probably means they have had a functioning conversation.

"Lunch in London?," he asks while she is packing up her things and rising to leave.

"Sure."

They dine in a fine restaurant in a less busy part of Diagonal Alley. As soon as the waiter leaves with their orders, Tristan gets down to business:

"The living conditions in the unit is acceptable. He seems quite depressed, though, which is understandable. He said he would continue to receive Wolfsbane from a private potioneer who has been brewing it for him, whom, I assume, is Professor Snape."

"Uh huh."

"However he didn't receive it this month, which I remember you did mention before."

"That's what I heard from his friend Black. But I'm uninformed as to why."

"He said the potioneer usually brought the potion to him about one week before the full moon, but as far as he is informed the potioneer forgot to do so this month, and he habitually forgot about it too until the full moon actually arrived."

Ella sighs:

"It's still his responsibility to manage his own symptoms though. He should have remembered and reminded Snape, or come and fetched it himself. They lived in the same castle."

"Yes and he is aware of his own wrong too."

"He will be tried for assault, or what?"

"That is precisely the problem."

"Huh?"

Tristan puts down his cutlery and leans back in his chair:

"He shouldn't be charged for intentional assault if we takes into account that he lost his capability of human behaviour during transformation. On the other hand, he should be held responsible for failing to adhere to a simple measure that was in place to prevent such an event from happening. And the law remains ambiguous around the issue of the extent to which werewolves are fit to be held responsible for criminal offences."

"Let's not forget however that the problems only occurred because two students followed him into a forbidden place, which they were not allowed to to begin with. And he was only let loose because his house elf, who was helping him, got killed by one of said students."

"That is true, however in legal terms that doesn't matter much, unfortunately."

Ella shakes her head and reaches for the wine bottle. She serves them both and raises her glass:

"Cheers."

Tristan raises his glass in return:

"You seem quite at ease."

She puts down the glass to continue with her main course:

"So what do you think?"

"I suggested to him that I help with his defence. He needs some time to think about it and will let me know."

Ella raises an eyebrow:

"You take on this case? That'd be quite some big extra work for you."

"I'm having some free time after finishing the latest project anyway. Besides, I doubt that a public defence attorney will go an extra mile for him."

"So you decided to go that extra mile yourself?," she smiles.

"He's a good man. You can tell from the first encounter."

"Agreed."

Ella starts picking at a lonely seed of pepper on her plate. Whether she wants it or not, she will have to appear in his trial to give her witness' account, and will have to face him again. And that will be the last time…

"Actually, the case will be much simpler if Snape as the injured party dismisses his complaint."

"It was not his complaint. It was the Malfoy boy's complaint, although yes Snape is the injured party," Ella points out.

"Ahhh… that's true. I forgot," Tristans exclaims.

"Snape however did make it clear – I heard this not from him but from his son – that he wouldn't dismiss anything re this case."

"Uh huh? He did?"

Ella received that piece of information one afternoon, when Harry came to her, his hair messier than usual, and informed her that Severus and Black were arguing in the dungeons over Remus. Apparently Black wanted Severus to file a motion to dismiss but failed to ask nicely, and Severus, of course, doesn't like being asked to do things in a not nice manner.

Anyway, just two more months and all of this will be over, Ella assures herself. It has been an eventful, complicated, sometimes heartbreaking chapter, but it, too, shall pass. The thought makes it easier for her to expect the last field trip of the school year, where she will have to work with – and rely on – Severus again. Once more, and then no more.

That afternoon, she brings the unfinished letter of resignation to her living room, ready to get it done over a cup of tea. However, she was interrupted by a familiar visitor.

"Come in, Harry."

The boy has learnt to help himself enter her classroom and proceeds to the door of her private quarter even when the classroom door is generally closed to students. Remus news is his excuse, and unknown to him, concluding her career at Hogwarts is his professor's excuse.

"Take a seat. Tea or juice?," she casually asks.

"May I have juice, Professor?"

"Sure. Wait a minute."

She leaves the room to fetch the drink, and when she returns, she finds widely open eyes staring at her.

"Professor? You... You are resigning?"

Crap... She notices, too late, that she has left the letter of resignation on the table and basically in front of him.

"You are not supposed to read papers on my table that are not addressed to you!," she scolds.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I just…"

He loses his words, and also colour on his face. She has never scolded him so sternly before. That is because she has never been THIS annoyed before.

"It's a violation of my privacy, Harry, and I'm not happy," she sits down, her glare still fixed on him.

It takes her longer than usual to melt, but still, she eventually melts. What else can you do with a child too scared to do anything but anxiously torturing his hands?

"Don't do that again, and..."

She can here his loud sigh of relief, which is almost amusing.

"... and I require you not to talk about it to anyone. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor. I won't."

"Drink your juice."

"But... Professor ?"

"Huh?"

"Are you... really... leaving?"

She rolls her eyes:

"I haven't decided yet. And you shouldn't ask."

"I'm sorry," his head drops.

"You are forgiven as long as you don't speak of it again. By the way, you behaved very maturely in the court today. I'm proud of you."

That brings them back to lighter topics, which recently revolve around Remus, Black and Severus. The poor boy is quite stuck in the endless war between his godfather and foster father. They have never got along, but now being colleagues living in proximity and on top of that having conflicts over Remus makes them right up confronting each other. Men..., she mutters in her mind. If only the boy had a mother figure to help him balance.

The letter of resignation comes back to sit in the safety of her office, still unfinished. The rest of her weekend passes in peace until Sunday evening when she stands watching the dead of night from the balcony in front of her quarter, ignoring the patrolling footsteps she has learnt to ignore when necessary.

The steps cease behind her. She rolls her eyes at the horizon. What now?

"Ella."

Hmm… That's surprising. She was expecting "Virtanen". She looks over her shoulder:

"Yes? How can I help you?"

He sighs, not once, but twice, before asking in a deep and unusually gentle voice:

"Could you please turn around?"

She does as he wishes, but not without the BEST glare ever immediately fixed on him.

He seems sad.

"I heard… you are planning to resign?"

She takes a long inhale, setting to let out anger. Harry has disappointed her too much, too soon.

"Before you get angry, I would like to clarify that Harry didn't mean to tell me about it. It slipped out when he was being absentminded. And I promised not to repeat it to anyone else."

"Uh huh," she replies blankly.

Silence endures. She is puzzled by the way the man looks. He has lost his I-know-everything-and-control-everything appearance. He frequently moves his eyes between her face and the floor and the wind. At last, he comes standing next to her, leaning against the parapet and drops his eyes:

"I apologise for my behaviour last week."

That strikes the coldness out of her. To be honest, she has given up on him. Of course she did the worse thing anyone could do to a wizard, which is to rid him of his wand against his will in public, and it was only worse that she did it with bare hands. Granted that was a big insult to a wizard's pride, but she has settled on what she received in return: some very rude yelling and a door slammed to her face.

Caught off guard, she murmurs:

"It's fine."

They stand in awkward silence while her confused mind tries to work out what is going on. Despite that, Severus is being so relaxed, so loose, and so… human, it makes her calculations cease.

"Now that you are here," she says quietly, dropping her eyes to the same direction as his, "let me finish the apology you didn't allow me to finish. I know it was a terrible thing I did. I was frightened and acted out of instinct. I'm sorry."

"You actually saved me from the trouble I would have been in if the spell had hit its target."

Yes, that's true, it's just that no one, even in their wildest dreams, would expect Severus Snape to admit it so eloquently.

He starts playing with his wand:

"May I ask why you plan to resign?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"But why?"

She muses:

"Personal reasons."

He lets out a deep, very deep sigh, and unexpectedly, he turns to face her, bearing his eyes into hers, full of thoughts. And… emotions?

"You will be missed."

That melts her completely like a candle, but she still maintains enough composure to work out a chuckle:

"I haven't decided yet, Severus."

He remains speechless, gazing at her as if he wants to carve her into his memory. And then all of a sudden, he briskly walks away, on with his patrolling routine.

She remains there, covered in unnameable feelings, watching his form slowly disappearing in the dark.

But only half way to the closest staircase, he turns around and walks back, even more briskly than when he left. In fact, he is storming towards her.

Once more, he stands facing her, very close, too close, so close that she is worried his nose might clash with hers. Gently, but firmly, he pick up her hands, and squeeze them in his.

"Ella…," he whispers. "I love you."

She didn't expect it. Totally didn't expect it. She didn't expect herself to abruptly remove her hands from his and throw them over his neck.

The ancient castle of Hogwarts then witnesses a very long and passionate kiss. A very improper thing for professors to do in a corridor, but she doesn't care. She is enjoying the kiss. And students are not supposed to be roaming free at this time anyway.

"Does this mean," she asks softly, her fingers tracing on his cheek, "that in the future you will not slam doors at my face when you are mad at me?"

"No," he mutters with amusement, "I promise."

"In that case," she chuckles, "I won't leave."


	27. Chapter 27 - You matter

**_Author's note_**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 27

 **YOU MATTER**

 _Ella is leaving Hogwarts._

 _There are several things she needs to get done before that. One of them involves a particular student._

 _Said student is standing in the middle of the Great Hall, head dropped, drowned in a brutal shower of verbal abuse poured over him by…_

 _… you know who._

 _No. This has to end. And it has to end now._

 _Her patience drained to the last drop, she storms towards Snape. He shoots her a glare. She glares back and hisses through her teeth:_

 _"I would like a word with you in private."_

 _She storms out of the hall through the professors' entrance door._

 _Snape follows her and closes the door behind him. If only he were not taller and bigger and basically in possession of a wand, she would have grabbed him by his collar and pressed him hard into the wall, just for vengeance on Neville's behalf. If only her looks could cause him actual damage._

 _"You don't have the right to talk to him that way," she lets out, every word loaded with fury. "Students are here to learn. They are not here to be your trash bins. You are their teacher. You are their FREAKING TEACHER! You are obliged to treat them with politeness and respect! Not stomping on them as if they were your door mats!"_

 _By the time she finishes that line, Snape has turn impossibly red, almost purple even. But she has not done with him yet._

 _"I warn you, Professor Snape. Should I ever catch you abusing any student in that manner again, and may Merlin in the highest help you if said student happens to be Mr Longbottom, I swear to the universe I won't be confronting you in private like today. You'll receive it in public, the same as what you so very much like to do to poor children who are HALF YOUR FREAKING AGE!"_

The final yelling explodes her. Abruptly, her eyes shoot open.

She blinks to clear her vision and looks around. It was a dream.

She is in bed, warm and comfortable. A strong arm wraps around her back. Someone's nose is buried deep in her hair. And she is using a broad shoulder as a pillow.

She slightly adjusts herself within the embrace and tucks her face in his chest. She is in love with Severus Snape. This is insane.

But it's also pleasant, she must admit…

He slightly adjusts himself too and envelops the rest of her with his other arm:

"Wake up."

" _Ei_ ," she moans. [in Finnish: _Ei_ = No]

"Huh?"

"Mmm…"

"Come on. It's time to get up. Otherwise we would starve."

He gently scratches along her spine, which he loves to do all the time. She throws her arms around his torso and sinks deeper into him.

"What's for breakfast?," he gently whispers.

" _Mitä_?," she moans louder. [in Finnish: _Mitä_ = What]

His chest vibrates with a giggle.

"Please do show me where the button to activate your English is?"

" _Puhu_ _suomea_!" [in Finnish: _Puhu_ _suomea_! = Speak Finnish!]

"For Merlin's sake…"

He playfully taps on her cheek. Several taps later, it still doesn't work.

" _R'ak'ast'an sinua_ ," he whispers again. [in Finnish: _Rakastan sinua._ = I love you.]

"It's _rakastan_ not _r'ak'ast'an_!," she protests.

Now that does work. She grudgingly rubs her eyes with the back of her hands in a desperate attempt to prevent them from sliding back to sleep.

"Breakfast," he says simply.

"You are going to eat in the Great Hall, aren't you," she sulks.

"No. I asked Albus to release me from weekend meals in the Great Hall. We eat at home."

Instantly, her eyes open wide in excitement:

"Excellent!"

"Indeed. Enough motivation to get up?"

"Certainly," she giggles and rolls out of bed.

Nothing on earth can be more delicious than a smoking warm homemade breakfast coming straight from the stove top. Ella leisurely chews a piece of toast while eyeing Severus.

The only difference between his at home outfit and at work outfit is one less layer. He is in his classic button down white shirt, his sleeves rolled up carelessly around his elbows.

One of her major concerns slowly crawls back into her mind.

"Why are you biting that toast in immobility?," he gives her an amused look.

"I'm wondering," she muses, "what will Harry think?"

"I believe we will get to know that soon," he says matter-of-factly.

"What if he doesn't like this?"

"What makes you even consider that possibility? He adores you."

"As his professor, yes, I suppose," she puts down the toast and props her cheek in one hand, "but this is different."

Just as soon as she finishes, they hear the quarter's door slide open, followed by cheerful footsteps.

"We apparently don't have to wait long," Severus smirks.

Ella's heart slides down towards her stomach. What if...

Before she can think any further, the messy mop of hair has arrived at the kitchen's door:

"What are you cooking d..."

Harry trails off, leaving his jaw dropped and the rest of himself motionless.

His eyes shuttle between his dad and her. Ella counts every ticking of the clock. At the ninth second, Severus speaks up amusedly:

"Please do inform me Mr Potter, do you plan to enter any time in the near future?"

The boy remains where he is, still dumbstruck and speechless. Ella's heart is getting uncomfortably closer and closer to her stomach.

Severus chuckles and holds out his arm:

"Don't be ridiculous. Come here."

That manages to uproot the boy. He moves awkwardly towards his dad while stealing looks at her. Ella can't suppress a giggle despite the anxiety quietly simmering within her.

"Sit," Severus presses him down a chair and rests a hand on his shoulder. "As you might have known, this is your professor, Ella Virtanen."

Ella giggles louder, because the look instantly formed on his face is priceless.

"And she is having breakfast here because we are in a relationship," Severus delivers with absolutely no emotions revealed.

"You...," Harry finally manages to articulate himself, his eyes shuttling more vigorously between the two adults. He swallows: "You… two... are..."

He raises his index fingers and pairs them up:

"... together?"

"That's what I have just said," Severus playfully rights the boy's glasses on his nose.

Harry blinks, and within the course of five second his face goes from dumbstruck to beaming.

"You are together? For real?!," he gasps.

"Do we look fake?," Severus still keeps his face straight.

"YAAAAAY!"

Ella instinctively covers her ears. That surely hurts her eardrums.

"YAAAAAAAAAAY..."

The boy literally jumps and bounces and almost flies out of the kitchen and audibly upstairs.

"...AAAAAAAAAAY..."

Ella lets out her congested breath:

"I didn't expect it to be this loud," she rolls her eyes.

Severus bursts into laughter and swifts his chair closer to her. Scooping her in his arm, he lays a kiss on her forehead:

"You are released from you worries, I assume."

"I apparently should be," she grins. "Well, he's certainly being a bit more childish than I know..."

"He tends to be more so at home. You will get used to it," he casually takes another bite from his toast.

Harry disappears until even after the two adults have finished breakfast and consumed two cups of tea each in the living room's couch. Ella keeps looking over her shoulder, expecting someone to trot down the stairs. And Severus keeps giving her his smirks.

"What?," she rolls her eyes.

"You look hilarious."

She snorts at him. But he doesn't snort back. Instead, he pulls her closer and holds her more tightly.

Their first week together has proved to be challenging. Severus' schedule was simply not designed to involve Ella-time. All what they managed were a few exchanges at lunch time and short breaks between dinners and his patrols. After the weeknights' patrols, he tended to be occupied with laboratory work. Not until Friday did they have time to truly enjoy an evening and night undisturbed.

She glances at him. He seems to be sinking deep in thoughts.

"What are you thinking?," she asks.

He doesn't look at her, but inclines himself to her a little more and rests his cheek on her head:

"I'm recalling what you said. Am I to understand that you were planning to leave because of my rudeness?"

Ella takes a deep inhale and lets out a long sigh. She relaxes her head on his shoulder:

"Not totally. But partly."

"What have gone wrong besides my behaviour?"

"Many things."

For a long silence he plays with the hair strands around her ear.

"I didn't notice. Where is you Alpha Charm?"

"It's broken."

"Broken?"

"I broke it."

"Have you asked Albus if he could fix it?"

"No, he can't. I didn't break its objectification. I broke its magic."

"Huh? How so?"

She throws an arm around his waist and tells him about what happened, her voice loaded with sadness.

"In short," she concludes, "you were injured. You were bleeding. My inner hell broke loose. And the charm lost its magic."

He grabs her hand and squeeze it in his. She goes on:

"If I had followed you to to Whomping Willow…"

She slowly rolls down the memory path, citing all the if only's that effectively brought her to the thought of quitting Hogwarts only a week ago.

"On top of that, you being so mad at me really didn't help much," she sighs.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his warm breaths spreading through her hair.

"Would you be if you had not known of my intention to resign?"

She absentmindedly draws circles on his chest. He pampers her fingers:

"I was. I was right after I did it and heard your steps being dragged upstairs. I intended to apologise when we meet to discuss the coming field trip."

"That would have been another two weeks of suffering for me," she whines.

"Oh no," he exclaims and rubs her back, "I never thought it would matter so much to you."

"Are you joking?," she snaps up. "Of course it matters."

"Besides," he continues, "I feared that you might not accept my apology."

"I have always accepted your apologies."

"Yes. You have."

He digs his nose into her hair again, which is annoying. She hates doing her hair and he is practically adding extra work to that.

"You matter to me even more than I realised, Severus."

She closes her eyes and eases herself. Floating in the air is an extraordinarily quiet whisper:

"Why? I'm only a dour man no one wants to be around. You are the centre of cheerfulness and socialisation in this castle."

"Because," she mutters lazily, "you were there when I was not."

"Huh?"

"May times when I found myself deep in trouble and no one else was there, it was always you who showed up."

"Did I?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she moans. "You certainly did."

She feels his hand gently drawing lines of her cheek.

"You saved my life. I kind of tried to return the debt so I could continue to forget about you."

"Hmm?," she frowns, her eyes still comfortably closed. "If I remember it right, you kind of started to ignore me less often after you saved my life, which I assume was that debt return you are talking about."

"You didn't let me forget about you easily," he chuckles.

"What did I do? Are you referring to the fact that I existed?"

"I'm referring to the fact that the first thing you did after you woke up in your sickbed was to send me a thank you."

"Not really the first, but I got your point. Hmm… riddiculous. What did you expect me to do instead?"

"Ignoring me," his voice fell quiet. "Because that was what I did when you saved my life."

"Now that you mention," she opens her eyes and shoots him a stern look, "I didn't notice that you didn't say thank you."

"Exactly the point."

He responds with his signature smirk. From upstairs, footsteps are approaching them.

"I will be in the laboratory for about an hour," he releases her from his embrace. "Have a nice time with your foster son."

He briskly rises and after delivering to her another smirk, he disappears into his realm.


	28. Chapter 28 - That’s why I love you

**_Author's note_**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 28

 **THAT'S WHY I LOVE YOU**

Ella remains still where she is, her back turned towards the staircase.

Harry's steps slow down and, to her confusion, become soft and cautious. In that manner, he enters the kitchen.

Her anxiety comes back. What is this? And why is this? The boy frequently travels all the way up to the third floor to see her and talk to her, but now she is just a few feet from him and he is acting as if he doesn't want to be noticed?

Her mind stirs up a hundred questions. She was right. It's one thing to be close to a professor but totally another thing to have her suddenly present in his home all day long and as more than an ordinary guest.

It has happened too fast even for Severus and her. And they kind of skipped the possibility that Harry might not take it the way they do. They didn't inform him, much less ask his opinion, about her spending this weekend as well as all the coming weekends here. It's no surprise if he sees it as an invasion of his territory.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

Ella jumps in her seat. Her thoughts are cut short and she is abruptly pulled back to the earth.

"Yes, Harry?"

She raises her eyes to meet the boy who is now standing on her side. Her hand still rests on her chest to calm the little heart attack.

"I'm sorry, did I startle you?," he shyly scratches his head.

"No... I mean, well, yes, you did. But it's okay," she smiles. "Want to take a seat?"

She slides towards the other end of the couch to make room for him. He sits down, and she notices he is holding a plate with an unacceptable amount of biscuits on it.

She props her cheek in one hand and leisurely leans against the couch's back:

"How are you? How was your week?"

"It was good. Thank you, Professor."

"You can call me 'Ella' in private."

For some reason, the boy flushes and conjures an awkward smile:

"Uhm… okay. Do you want some biscuits?"

On a normal day, Ella would lecture him a bit about moderate biscuit intakes, but today she decides to let it slip.

"No, thank you. I have just had plenty of them," she points at the empty plate on the table. "You were going to ask me something?"

"I was wondering… Do you mind if I have Ron and Hermione over now? We planned to spend this afternoon here…"

Her heart drops. So that is it, she is messing up the poor kids' weekend…

"Of course I don't mind, Harry," she works out a calm smile. It's your home, she thinks, but decides not to articulate it. "I will be in Severus' room if you need…"

"No, that's not what I mean," Harry interrupts. "We will be in my room. It's just that… we might be noisy."

It's your home, the thought repeats itself.

"Well, that is definitely not a problem. But you can use this room too, I can be elsewhere…"

"You don't have to, Professor. We always spend time in my room. I have my living space there. My friends don't dare to be here anyway 'cause dad might show up…," he trails off into a grin and mischievously eyes the laboratory's door.

Ella can't fight back a chuckle:

"I see. Then there should be no problem. I'm glad you are not consuming all those biscuits on you own."

"No, I'm not," he giggles. "Well, I guess they are here."

He rises to go and answer the door. To save herself from causing the kids a shock and having to explain her presence, she also rises to leave the living room and approach the laboratory. After a few knocks, the door slides open, revealing a quite unfamiliar Severus. He is in a white robe and his hair is neatly secured inside a white cap.

"Hmm… you look good in this," she comments.

"Thank you and pray tell, Miss, how can I entertain you?"

Oops… He seems annoyed.

"Sorry," she murmurs. "I didn't think I would be bothering you."

She only waits for him to shoo her away before turning on her heels, but that never comes. Instead, he opens the door wider:

"Come in."

"I can go to your room and read something if…," she says, but her legs decide to bring her inside nevertheless.

"You clearly deemed it more desirable to visit my lab, didn't you?," he replies blankly while making speedy moves over the brewing equipments with his wand. "Sit down on that tool."

She does as he told, but not without feeling a little guilty. Before she can feel anything further, however, he has put away his wand, removed his work clothes and come to spoon her from behind.

"You are bored?," he asks gently.

"No, but Harry is having his friends over and I don't want to make them uncomfortable. Am I disturbing you? Why did you take off your lab robe? You said you would be working for an hour."

"Huh? Harry has his own living space. Today he decided to use the living room instead?"

"No, he also said that but I think they might want to go downstairs at some point and I shouldn't be…"

"You shouldn't be existing?"

She gives him a questioning glance. He smirks:

"I assure you, they would rather run into you than run into me, a million times so."

"I'm not disagreeing," she grins. "Why do you have to be so mean?"

"Because I'm Snape. Fine, let's grab a drink then and go to my room to avoid scaring your little souls."

Ella blinks:

"But aren't you working?"

"I'm just doing it to give you some time with our Mr Potter, but he is apparently occupied at the moment."

Ella sighs:

"This is awkward."

"It's because you are suddenly having so much doubt of yourself. Don't forget that you had been his friend long before I came anywhere near you."

"This is…"

"…different. Yes, it is. Now what drink would you like? A brandy?"

"Give me what you'll have."

A few minutes later, they are in Severus' room, which suffers a severe lack of sunlight. Ella lies down in the bed, resting her head on his lap. It feels surprisingly good, especially because he is entertaining himself by tidying her hair instead of messing it up.

"What's your plan for the summer?," he asks.

"Like usual. I'll spend June in Finland. Then July and August on my field trips."

"Field trips?"

"For my personal research."

"You are incredibly hardworking."

"Just the same as you shutting yourself in the lab," she shrugs.

"I doubt it's half as hard as wandering Britain."

"It depends on what you define as 'hard'. I would go insane in no time if you locked me in a room with only cauldrons and flasks and potion ingredients to socialise with."

He smiles at her. So the fact is proven: Snape does smile more often when he is in love. That brings a flush all the way up to the top of her ears.

"You will spend June with your parents, I assume?"

"Yes. I have a few meetings in the capital with my colleagues too. And I have also enrolled in a pedagogy course."

"Pedagogy course?," he raises an eyebrow.

"Yes. I should have taken it last summer, not this summer after I have effectively messed up a fair amount of my teaching."

"No professors here have ever gone through pedagogy training. You can always learn it by doing. Merlin helps us, do you think you are still not popular enough?"

Ella gets serious:

"Being popular is not the purpose of teaching. The purpose of teaching is to help students learn."

"Hmm…"

"Call me weird if you like," she grins, "but yes I will be back next year with a teacher certificate."

"This is interesting, seeing that only last week you were planning to quit…"

"For a hundredth time, sir, I hadn't decided yet!," she exclaims.

"Fine, I see, sorry. So… where will your field trips be?"

"Britain?," she blinks.

"I could figure out that much. But exactly where?"

"It will spread over a few regions. I'll have to come up with the route in June."

"And where do you plan to stay at night?"

"Hostels and inns, as usual. Why are you asking?"

He studies her in silence. He looks quite different from this angle. She wishes she could lie here and look at him like this forever.

"And are you planning to use muggle means of transport and get lost in summer storms as usual too?"

She snorts:

"You make my exciting adventures sound pathetic."

He chuckles:

"There is a spare room in my house, if you don't mind an old, weary and boring accommodation."

"Huh?"

Ella is taken by surprise. The idea is just logical but somehow doesn't feel very much so.

"Warm meals and escorted apparitions are included though," he winks.

Ella beams:

"Well…"

"By the look of your face I take it as a yes?"

But quickly, a frown is formed on her forehead:

"But what will Harry think?"

"For Merlin's sake," Severus lets out with annoyance. "Fine, I will inform him, if you insist."

"No, you are not going to inform him. Please ask him for his opinion."

"It's my home."

Ella sighs. This is exactly what she doesn't want to get herself into.

"I know. But you know what I mean. I don't want to be there if he is not yet ready for it."

He studies her for a longer while.

"I honestly don't see why he wouldn't be. He has been talking about you since that day when you were stuck in front of our door."

"Huh? What?," Ella's jaw drops.

"And don't ask me why, I don't know."

This is new. And this, as well as many other things, melts her.

"Still…"

"Still, yes I will ask for his opinion, Madam. Hmm… There is some flashing light in your pocket?"

Ella glances at her coat on the hanger. Indeed some light is flashing, and it means Tristan is calling.

She springs up and technically crawls over Severus to reach the mirror. She takes it out and as usual, it comes afloat at her eye level. Tristan's face slowly appears.

"Hello?," she greets.

"Good afternoon, my lady. Got time to talk?," Tristan smiles, and his smile combined with his voice tells her that it's not extremely good news.

"Is it urgent?"

"Not really."

"Can it wait until tomorrow afternoon or evening?"

"Sure it can. I'll call in the evening then?"

"Yes, let's do that."

"Okay. Bye bye and see you!"

"Bye."

She tucks the mirror back to its place before easing herself back where she was.

"You can talk now. I will be in my lab meanwhile," Severus says blankly.

"No," Ella moans. "It can wait. I'm enjoying my time with you."

Just then, she notices an awkward expression on his face. She chuckles:

"He is Tristan. He is just a friend."

"I'm not questioning that."

But your look betrays you, she thinks and fights back another chuckle.

"He is my best friend. He's from France, but he was in Finland to do his advanced studies, for the sake of running as far as possible from his family. We went to the same academy during the same years."

"Hmm. That's a long time ago."

"Yes. He used to spend holidays at my parents' home with me when his family was too difficult for him to manage a visit. He and Matti and I, we were very close. When I learnt of Matti's death and ran headlong into the sea, he wrestled with me to get me back to shore."

Severus' face becomes blanker and blanker. Ella continues:

"Matti was my fiancé. He died on Halloween's day, a few months before our planned wedding."

That immediately brings emotions back to his eyes.

"And that's why you cried so hard last Halloween's night?"

"Huh?"

Ella rounds her eyes. How can he know?!

"Before you ask, it was obvious. Everyone knew it. You showed up the next day with terribly swollen eyes and the spirit of a walking dead."

"Aw…"

She moans. This is another annoying part of a settler's life.

"Okay, I did cry. But not because of Matti."

Silence endures. Somehow, Severus seems to be losing his rough edges. She didn't expect this. They are on the topic of Matti, of all things.

"Was it because of me?"

Ella almost freezes. But for the overwhelming feeling of safety and comfort she is enveloped in at the moment, that would have scared the daylights out of her.

"What makes you think so?," she asks with caution.

He spends the next several seconds gently cuddling her face in silence.

"I'm waiting for your answer."

He sighs:

"I woke up the next morning remembering of that night. I noticed how you looked, but I honestly couldn't care less. However, several days later, Harry magically came back to me after all the mess we had been in… and I learnt that it was you who convinced him to do so."

"It was me?," Ella blinks.

"It's hard to believe you didn't know this."

"How can I know?," she shrugs. "I was not the only one who advised him to do that."

"I see. But it was you, as he told me."

"I'm glad I did help. And then?"

"And then I had the feeling that I should review my forgotten memories of that night. When I did so, I found out what I said to you."

"And? It's not like you had always been sweet before that," she snorts.

"True. But I guess it was particularly not sweet to get that after you had deliberately persuaded my child to reconcile with me."

His voice falls silent at the end. The Tristan question seems to have disappeared now as he is contemplating on his sin.

"Why do you have to know everything?," she crosses her arm in front of her chest.

"So my guess does ring true?"

Ella softly smiles and looks him in the eyes:

"Let it go. It's the past."

"That's why I love you."

Next thing she knows is a kiss dropped on her out of nowhere.


	29. Chapter 29 - Never leave me

**_Author's note_**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 29

 **NEVER LEAVE ME**

"There. He's home," Severus registers.

From his room, the sound of footsteps entering the quarter, going upstairs and into the bathroom, followed by the sound of a shower, can be clearly heard.

"Your quarter is enchanted to magnify echoes, isn't it?," Ella asks.

"It is. This way I can easily follow where he is. This quarter is definitely not built to cater to the needs of a family with a child."

"I can imagine."

"Not to mention I'm not working the safest job in the world. I wouldn't be able to fall asleep knowing he could sneak into my lab or storage unnoticed."

"Can't you put up security charms?"

"Of course I can and there are a jungle of them at work here. But you can never be too careful when it comes to teenagers."

Giving her a smirk, he adds:

"I'm saying that after almost twelve years dealing with a castle full of teenagers."

"Uh huh," Ella nods absentmindedly. "It sounds a bit like paranoia if you asks my opinion. But yeah, you do have way more experience than I do."

"You will build up paranoia too once you become a Head of House."

She bursts into laughter:

"That is intense fantasy, Sev. It's impossible."

One minute.

Two minutes.

Confused, Ella puts away the magazine in her hands. Severus has suddenly fallen into dead silence and is looking at her as if her hair were burning or something.

"Sev?," she tugs his arm. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Caught off guard, he swallows:

"You have just called me… what?"

"Sev?"

He remains dumbstruck. Ella blinks:

"Your name is long."

"It's one syllable longer than your name."

"Which is why it is long. But if you don't like, I won't call you that any more. I'm sorry."

She gets even more confused when he responds not in words but by slowly pulling her into his embrace. And not in a very normal way. She feels as if he fears she would suddenly disappear as a strand of smoke.

"What is it, love?," she cups his cheek in her hand. "Tell me about it. What's wrong?"

Still, he doesn't reply. She reassures:

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

He holds her tighter, to the point of practically squeezing the daylights our of her.

"Ouch…"

Stricken by her cry, he releases:

"I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"A bit, but never mind," she struggles to regain her breath. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Down in the living room, the grand clock signifies nine o'clock. The echoes fills up all the air in the quarter.

"I'll go put Harry to sleep," Severus rises from the bed. "Perhaps you can take a shower meanwhile."

"Okay. I will."

"You are not surprised I'm putting a thirteen year old boy to sleep?," he eyes her curiously.

"Why would I be?"

"He's thirteen."

"So what?," she giggles. "My parents still put me to sleep every single night I spend at home. And I'm thirty-two."

"What? Are you serious?," he rounds his eyes.

"Of course I am. Isn't that what parents are for?"

With that she makes her way to the bathroom, leaving Severus stuck in his amusement alone.

Harry's door is left ajar, apparently waiting for his dad to enter. Ella sighs. She still doesn't know how the boy feels about her new role in his life. He had dinner with his friends in the Great Hall and spent the rest of the evening with Black. They hardly had any chance to talk.

But she will probably know the answer soon, she assures herself. If the boy doesn't like it, he will let Severus know. And Severus will let her know. If he won't, she will still be able to read it from his face. Or so she hopes.

When she steps out of the bathroom, Harry's door is still left ajar, letting his giggles escape. That makes she smile.

Oh, how strange it is.

How strange it is to end a day in the comfort of a double bed, knowing it will be used up to its capacity. How strange it is to end a day hearing the giggle of a child who sleeps under the same proof with her, loved and protected by a man he calls "dad". No longer is she sleeping in a weary bed of The Leaky Cauldrons and the like, nor is she tossing and turning in the loneliness of her quarter's bedroom. No longer does she have to lull herself to sleep by means of some long boring reads, or worse, alcohol.

She might have to, tomorrow, when the new week prepares to turn its wheel. But tonight and the seventh night next, she will be here in the pleasant strangeness one may call "family".

"What are you smiling at?"

"Huh?"

She didn't notice Severus has returned and is preparing himself for a shower. He chuckles:

"What part of the ceiling do you find amusing?"

"How's Harry?," she turns on her side to face him.

"As fine as he was the last time you met him."

"You know what I mean."

Severus shakes his head:

"Really, you just would never drop it."

He sits down on the edge of the bed. Her head propped in her hand, she shoots him a look that screams "If you don't tell me I won't let you sleep."

After a long wait, he starts, not talking, but giggling. His giggle rapidly grows into a soft laugh.

"Whaaaaat?," Ella's patience wears thin.

"He asked when we are going to…"

She is increasingly tempted to just punch the information out of him. He deserves it; he is deliberately letting it hang in the air to annoy her.

"… to what?"

"To get married."

"Sweet Merlin," her jaw drops and the rest of her freezes.

"There. You kept disbelieving me."

"But…," she mutters, "what… why…"

"Aw," he waves her off. "He is thirteen."

"But… I thought…"

"Let me sum it up. You thought he would reject you. Well, for your information, he didn't. In fact he asked if we will go out together or something like that at some point. That is besides the marriage question."

Ella collapses and buries her face in the bed sheet:

"Unbelievable."

Leaving her just like that, Severus giggles all the way to the bathroom and back. As soon as he hits the pillow, she crawls into his arms.

"Speaking of disbelief," he whispers, "I couldn't believe either that you would be interested in me."

"Don't be ridiculous," she tightens her hug, "of course I love you."

Once again, he digs his nose into her hair.

"Why do you keep doing that?," she nags.

"Because your hair smells like the autumn forest."

"What in the name of Merlin is the autumn forest supposed to smell like?"

"Your hair."

"Nonsense," she chuckles. "Should we take Harry somewhere tomorrow?"

"He has plans with his godfather tomorrow."

"He does?"

"Yes. But we can schedule something for next week."

"Yeah let's do that. Where does he usually like to go?"

"He said he wanted to visit somewhere you have been before. You know, some of the places in the stories you told."

"I see. Let me think then."

 **o0o**

The rest of the weekend passes in peace. Severus escorts Ella back to her quarter before departing on his Sunday night patrol. The word "next week" has never sounded so faraway to her.

After setting up for her Monday classes, she curls up in a blanket on her couch and waits for Tristan.

Her mind slowly slips out of the heaven of love she has been in. Seven days. For the past seven days, the only thing in the world she cared about was Severus. And his son. And their future together.

But now Tristan is going to call her and it is going to be about something that belongs to the world she has temporarily dropped. She doesn't even know if she wants to care about it any more.

"Hellloooo?," Tristan's joking voice arrives even before his face is seen.

"Evening, sir," Ella lazily smiles. "Not very good news, I assume."

"No, not very good news, but not bad either."

"About Remus."

"You know everything."

"So he agreed to let you help?"

"Yes."

"And what makes it not very good news?"

"I'm uncertain whether it will turn out well. For some reason, I don't feel very confident this time," Tristan sighs.

Ella muses:

"Just do your best. Honestly if even you can't help him, I don't know who can."

"Because I am pretty much the only lawyer you know?," he winks, but the wink fails to wipe worries off his face.

"Let me know if and how I can help," she delivers absentmindedly.

"Has Snape displayed any intention to talk to you again?"

Caught off guard, she swallows:

"Yes. We are talking now. Why?"

"As I mentioned earlier, if you could somehow convince him to dismiss his side of the dispute, it would be of great help."

Ella falls quiet and starts to rock herself back and forth:

"I'm afraid it's highly unlikely, unfortunately."

"What's the greatest obstacle?"

"I don't even know."

No, she doesn't even know. Long after Tristan held up, she is still curled up in the same blanket on the same couch, trying to digest the hard truth.

She doesn't know him as well as she liked to believe during the past seven days.

It turns out he is not as close as she liked to believe, either.

It has been sweet and peaceful simply because tough topics have not been brought up.

The romance, the passion has blinded her. It seems she has been skating on thin ice, the whole time believing it's strong and thick.

Just one thing going wrong and all might very well immediately collapse. It has happened before. He did slam a door at her face out of anger, despite all the good time they had had. There is no guarantee he would be any different the next time he gets angry.

She has absolutely no idea where it would go as soon as she mentions "Remus".

Pained by her own disillusion, she lies down in the couch, having no motivation whatsoever to go to bed. Why does this world have to be so brutal?

Shortly after she fell asleep, she is waken up by knocks on her quarter's door.

Grumpily, she rises to answer it, ready to give a lecture to whoever is knocking at this time of night.

But she doesn't manage to do that, because said person is faster and stronger. He storms in and shuts the door behind himself. Before she has anytime to react, she is locked up in his arms and drowned in his kiss.

"I miss you," he whispers when she rests her head on his shoulder.

"I miss you too," she whispers in reply.

Chaotic. The chaos of emotions almost crushes her. The only thing that still holds her together is those strong, gentle arms. The arms that held out to escort her back to her hostel in a stormy evening. The arms that caught her and righted her on her feet when she banged into him in a dark corridor. The arms she grabbed to drag him home when he was broken and intoxicated. The arms that defended her in the face of fatal harm, pulled her back from the death of the ocean, cared for her and carried her to safety. The arms that always awkwardly squeeze her to half dead every time he wants to express the intensiveness of his love.

"Severus…"

"Hmm?"

"Promise me…"

"What?"

"Promise me, you will never leave me."

Cupping her face in his palms, he drives her to look him in the eyes:

"Never, Ella. Never."


	30. Chapter 30 - Captured

**_Warning_**

 _This chapter contains non-graphic violent scenes and implicit references to sexual crimes._

 ** _Author's note_**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 30

 **CAPTURED**

"Oh crap… it's raining," Ella moans.

Severus shoots her a stern look. She abruptly covers her mouth, but it's too late. She has just articulated some improper language in front of the students. Luckily, the seventh years are too immersed in discussing their field notes to notice. Or so she hopes.

Severus sighs with annoyance and tosses away the old shoe in his hand:

"No hope. We will have to apparate."

"The portkey is broken?," Ella asks.

"If it were that simple, I could just make a new one now. There is some failure in the portkey network, I believe."

"Network failure? How very good timing," Ella rolls her eyes. "We will have to go in several batches then, I assume?"

"Yes."

The two professors announce the transportation glitch and eventually divide the students into four groups to be escorted back to school one at a time. Thankfully, they are seventeen, not thirteen or eleven, so they calmly take it as a chance to investigate the field a little more.

This is the last field trip of the school year. They are at the cave where Ella and Severus paid a preliminary visit earlier. Being an optional trip, it involves only students who are genuinely interested, and it turns out to be particularly pleasant. She can't wait to read their reports.

"I will be back in a moment," Severus tells her over his shoulder before disapparating with the last group of students.

Left alone, Ella slightly turns towards the inside of the cave to take a closer look at a detail a Ravenclaw girl has just pointed out a minute ago. The moment her back is exposed to the outside, she is hit, not once, but twice, and the two spells send her both silent and immobile.

A force tugs her into apparition. The next moment, she finds herself tossed down on a cold, dusty floor.

Someone violently clutches away her bag, causing its strap to tear off her shoulder. Before she manages to register what is going on, two people scoop her up by the arms and drag her to a pole of some sort. They bend her arms backwards, wrap them around it and rope her wrists together.

One… two… three… four… There are four figures, four men, all dressed in rags. No, not four men. The fourth one looks too small, too young. A boy?! Ella can't be sure; she can barely see any detail in this dark, stinking place.

"Filthy squib!," one of the men spits out.

"Piece of crap," another man hisses. "My brother was caught because of you. He's in Azkaban because of you! Dirty whore! Crucio!"

Ella screams, but no sound escapes. Her entire being is burning in an invisible fire. She literally feels her bones and joints disassembling themselves while her flesh is roasted.

Abruptly, the pain ceases, as unexpected as when it was inflicted. She has already collapsed. The only thing that keeps her vertical is the pole she is fixed to.

"Do you find anything, boy?," one of the men asks over his shoulder.

"A few sickles and some chocolate," the voice of a young boy answers. "Otherwise only her personal docs and some useless writings."

Ella gathers all what is left in herself to raise her head, trying to capture the boy's image. She knows that voice… Impossible. It can't be him! Impossible!

"Keep the sickles and burn the rest of them," the man commands coldly.

The boy mutters a spell. The bulk of Ella's belongings quickly disappears in a smokeless flame.

"What do we do with her now?"

The question receives a long, perverted laugh in reply. One of the men rises from his seat to approach her. Grabbing her chin, he drives her face upwards, almost breaking her neck in the process.

After fixing her a quick glare, he wets his other hand with his own spit and rubs it all over her face. She trembles in terror.

"What… what do you want?," she mutters between her short breaths, and surprisingly, her words come out audible. "I can give you money. I have money. How much do you want?," she begs.

"Money?," the man raises his voice. "That can certainly be arranged after we are done with you."

Another perverted laugh fills the space.

"Can I have my part first?," the boy's voice comes accompanied by his footsteps marching towards her.

"Your part? You are more grown up than I think, boy."

"I didn't mean that."

The boy replies coldly. Once he appears close enough, Ella can confirm who he is. But he is now hardly the same boy he once was.

"She gave her witness' account at my trial. She has ruined my life."

Ella's jaw drops. Her eyes open wide, gazing at him with shock. She isn't sure what hurt her more, the words she has just heard or…

"Crucio!"

"Silencio!"

The second spell hits before the scream reaches her throat, rendering it silent again. A thousand invisible knives are tearing her every cell apart. Her back arches with pain, causing her scalp and arms to rub themselves against the pole's rough surface until her skin breaks.

This time however, it lasts much shorter. She remains well conscious and on her feet when the pain ceases.

"You still need more experience, boy. Always a Silencio before the main game. Try it again."

Ella struggles to take another look at him, to…

"Crucio!"

Something in her abdomen explodes and sends waves of shocks all over her body. Strangely, it doesn't hurt much, only badly uncomfortable, but she screams nonetheless, the scream of terror, the scream for the remainder of pain from the previous Crucios.

"Enough for now, blokes. I'm hungry. Let's go eat. She can wait. Blind her, Drac."

They all rise and flock to a far corner of the shack, out of Ella's sight, except 'Drac', who stays to blindfold her with a piece of fabric.

"Dr…Draco?," she tries to mutter. Coincidentally, the Silence Charm has faded again, allowing it to be heard.

"You don't deserve calling my name, bitch!"," the boy yells.

With that, he slaps her face. It blows her head to the other side. What makes it unbearably painful is the size of his hand – too small, too young…

"Filthy squib!"

She receives a spit on top of the slap before she hears the boy's steps retreating.

Tears stream down her cheeks as her chest pains with increasing tension. Severus must be turning the world upside down searching for her now. They had been longing for their Friday night and planning to take Harry out tomorrow.

She will never see them again. Her intuition assures her with absolute certainty that she will die in the hands of this gang, a painful, rotten death. The presence of Draco Malfoy in this hellhole only makes her sob louder.

"You are too noisy, slut! Silencio!"

As she is muted, her sobs are swallowed inward and constantly choking her breaths.

She doesn't know how long has passed while the kidnappers eat and talk and play their card games, but it has been long enough for the rain outside to develop into a thundering storm and then ease out. Her stomach is protesting its fate wildly. She doesn't know when she has fallen asleep, but she is half asleep when her chin is once more grabbed and spit is once more rubbed all over her face. She squeezes her fists in vain, hoping to just pass out and die before disasters descend upon her.

"Please…," she begs in tears. "I will give you all the money I have. I will sign the check for you and you can erase my memory, I will remember nothing about it…"

Another burst of perverted laughter fills the shack and almost deafens her.

"Sounds like a good plan," the man grabbing her chin hisses, his nose almost touching hers. "Your wish is granted, squib. You won't remember anything. Remove the rope, Drac."

Ella's heart almost misses a beat in her moment of intense hope. But it doesn't last long; she quickly realises what he actually meant when he starts to undress.

"NO!," she cries at the top of her lungs. "NO! PLEASE DON'T…"

"Silencio!," Malfoy chants from behind her back and mutes her instantly.

Ella places her tongue between her teeth, ready to bite it apart. One of the worse ways to kill oneself, but she has no other choices…

"What are you waiting for?," one of the other man asks impatiently. "If you want to take your turn first, be hurried!"

Unexpectedly, the grip on her chin is slowly released. Let loose, she takes a glance at the man. For some reason, he is staring at the air in front of him, his eyes totally confused. And then he steps back.

"What the heck are you…?," one of the other men nags but trails off and strangely also falls silent.

"What…," the third man lets out that much before he too falls silent.

The pause lasts less than a minute before they speak up again, but about eating and drinking up the rest of their firewhiskey. Shooting her some grudging looks, they leave her and make their way back to the far corner.

Ella takes a long series of gasps and sighs. She has absolutely no idea what is going on, although she is glad she is still alive.

In no time, food and alcohol send the gang fast asleep. It must already be midnight or even over midnight. Ella slides down along the pole, scratching her skin at several spots in the process, but she has no energy left to care. She collapses like a pathetic heap of flesh and dozes off. From the back of her mind, she wishes dearly that she would never have to wake up again.

But dying is not as easy as she hopes. She is waken up to meet the dim sunlight at dawn by means of another slap on her cheek, this time with an adult's hand. Insults and several Crucios follow at random during the course of the day. Malfoy displays clear enthusiasm in torturing her, asking for his part whenever the men decide it's time for another Crucio. It turns out to be her luck, since his Crucios are much less severe and last much shorter, sometimes hardly hurt at all. The adults' curses however are enough to chop up her nerves from inside out, and the boy's accusations of how she oppressed him as his professor smash the remainder into pieces.

The second night, Malfoy is again ordered to release her from restraint while his elders undress. Starved, dehydrated and almost paralysed by the echos of agony, Ella makes no attempt to protest. She will no doubt die "after they finish with her", or even at some point in the process. And that would be good, because all of this will end forever.

Suddenly, the sight of Severus' eyes flashes across her mind, followed by Harry's bright smile, Tristan's mischievous grin, and her parents' hugs. She sobs. If one can sob to death, it would be even better.

This time no mysterious magic happens. She is silenced and pinned to the ground. As the first man mounts on her, she closes her eyes and braces for her fate. She brings her tongue between her teeth, but she doubts the amount of energy left in her being is enough for her to take her own life in that manner.

Die, Ella, die, she tells herself. Die, at least you will see Matti again…

"What are you doing?! Go ahead!," the other two men curse furiously.

Ella cautiously opens her eyes. The first man suddenly decides to cease his action midway and get back on his feet with that strange look of confusion on his face. The other two men too have little time to rage at him before falling into a short mental limbo themselves.

"Put her back there," the first man commands while licking around his mouth. "Let's have a look at those weeds you brought back today."

All three of them walk away. Stricken by her sudden freedom, Ella attempts to sit up but gets hit by an Immobulus and drops back down, stirring up all the dust and choking herself.

She shrieks as a kick blows at her head, followed by several others.

"Silence her, boy! How many times do I have to remind you?," a scold comes from afar.

"Silencio," Malfoy chants blankly and gives her another kick, which hits her left eye and renders it out of use.

Only then does he stands her up and drags her back to the pole, all with magic because he is simply too small to do that with bare hands.


	31. Chapter 31 - Rescued

**_Warning_**

 _This chapter contains non-graphic violent scenes and implicit references to sexual crimes._

 ** _Author's note_**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 31

 **RESCUED**

Ella has lost the count. She is no longer aware of days and nights. The torture left her gasping in terror at the tiniest sound hitting her ears. Her outer wounds are burning with inflammation and her hands have lost all their sensations. Every time the gang want to get on her, they have to literally drag her off like a rag doll.

Incomprehensible to her, however, every time, they would cease the process somewhere in the middle. Sometimes they give up even before her restraint is let off. Sometimes they give up when she is already flat on the floor, incapable of the slightest move of a finger, and having one of them mounted on her. Other times they give up at different stages along the way, but it always ends before they go any further, and always with those moments when it seems some part of their minds is going missing.

One day, one of them brings it up while they are drinking:

"It's strange. Why don't I remember anything?"

"Remember what?," another one absentmindedly asks.

"How it was when I hit on the squib."

"Hmm? I have been wondering the same. I can't recall much either. How about you?"

The third one bursts into laughter:

"Too much weeds, eh? What a shame."

"Do you remember?," the other two ask almost in chorus.

"Of course I do," he gasps with joy, "Every bit of it. It was great, right, Drac?"

A long silence endures.

"Aww. You still don't know anything."

That meets with another burst of laughter:

"He's only thirteen. He will get to know it soon."

Puzzled, Ella starts questioning herself. Is it her who has forgot everything? Have they erased her memory every time? The thought sends tears to the corner of her dry, weary eyes, but nothing drops out. Her body has run out of fluid for even that.

The next time they toss her on the floor and get set, she tries her best to pay attention. No, she can't feel any memory gap. The man is indeed stopping himself before actually carrying out his intention. It is even more confusing that this time, he stands up laughing manically and describing how much he has been enjoying himself. The second and third men took their turns, both ending it in the same manner. They retreat to their corner loudly expressing their joys. Ella is completely clueless. Has she gone insane and had her brain shut down in some way?

As usual, Malfoy is left alone to drag her back to her place. She braces herself for his customary kicks and slaps and insults. But today they don't come; instead she hears the sound of fabric being torn.

Is he tearing up her clothes? What does he want?!

Her eyes snap open when a drop of liquid touches her face. In a split second, she sees the boy hurriedly turning his head away and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he continues tearing her clothes apart at several places before standing her up. She trembles in the cold, but for some reason her clothes are still well in place despite the damage.

Without a word, without a look at her, the boy throws an additional log into the fireplace and leaves.

Another night falls upon the shack. Ella trembles and grunts as the cold air makes its way into every corner of her body. She tries to stop the grunting, fearing she would wake up the gang and bring another round of torture upon herself.

Suddenly, someone grips her chin. She gasps. The grip drives her head upwards and forces her mouth to open.

"Drink."

A stream of liquid gently enters her mouth and flows down her throat. It has taste. It's milk!

She tries to swallow slowly to avoid choking. The nurturing liquid revives every cell it touches. When it is over and the grip is released, a voice mutters something very quietly and a wave of warmth runs all over her.

"Silencio."

The same voice whispers the spell before the person totally disappears in the dark.

For the first time since she was captured, Ella can truly fall asleep for a short while, well until the discrete beams of the morning sunlight wake her up.

"Get me some more milk," she hears Malfoy saying blankly.

One of the men laughs out loud:

"Go home! Go home with mummy! She'll give you milk!"

Another man cuts in:

"Come on. He's still a boy. Get him his freaking milk so he can grow a bit taller. Right, my baby?"

Another laugh prevails before one of them opens the door to leave.

"Expelliarmus!"

Someone shouts from the outside and a storm of massive noise follows suit. The shack's door is blown open. Someone rushes towards Ella, grabs her hair and drills his wand at her throat. She shrieks in pain.

"Step back! Or I'll kill her!," he yells.

"Surrender your wand!," a loud, powerful voice commands.

"One step further and I'll kill this bitch!," the man yells louder and tucks the tip of his wand deeper in her throat.

Ella chokes. In a moment, her breaths stop completely. The next moment, the inner of her abdomen explodes and shatters her entire being.

o0o

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Ella's eyes shoot open, her mouth still hanging in the middle of the scream. Footsteps run towards her. Frightened, she shrinks, but she can't move. Suddenly, her cheeks are cupped in someone's hands. The contact startles her.

"NOOOOO! PLEASE DON'T!," she cries.

"Shhh… Ella! It's me!," a familiar voice whispers.

The hands drive her face towards that voice. In between her gasps and trembles, a blurred figure comes clearer and clearer.

"S… Severus?," she mutters in disbelief. "Severus!," "Shhh… calm down, love. It's midnight. Yes, I'm here. I'm here with you."

"Sev!," she throws herself at him, but the attempt knocks her out with intense pain all over her limbs, causing her to cry out louder.

"Shhh…"

"It's alright, sir," another man's gently says. "This room is soundproofed. How are you, Miss?"

Ella instinctively makes another attempt to move and shrieks in pain again.

"Easy, Miss. Where are you hurt?"

"I… I can't move," she mutters. It feels so strange to be speaking again.

"I see. Let me check that."

The man with the gentle voice , dressed in a blue robe, slightly raises his wand. It meets with another scream:

"Noooo! Please don't!"

Ella closes her eyes and tries in vain to shrink herself away from whatever is coming from the wand.

"It's fine, Miss," the gentle voice comforts her, "I won't use the wand. It's fine, you are safe. Look, can you open your eyes?"

"You are safe, love," Severus cuddles her hand in his. "I'm here. Don't worry. The healer only wants to see if you are fine."

Ella's breaths start to ease out.

"Do you think you need a dose of Calming Draught, Miss?," the Healer asks while sitting down on a chair besides her bed.

Her hands are freezing with cold sweat, but Severus has made one of them warm and relaxed. She slightly shakes her head:

"No, sir."

"Very well. May I know your name, Miss?", the healer smiles.

"Ella," she lets out tiresomely. "Ella Virtanen."

"I see. Are you from Britain?"

"No. I'm from Finland," she mutters.

"Oh. You speak English so well. Do you live in Britain?"

"Yes."

"Where do you live?"

"Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts? What do you do in Hogwarts?"

"I teach Muggle Studies."

"I see. That's great. I didn't take that course at school but it sounds interesting. Now would you mind if I check your arms and legs a bit? I won't use the wand, only my hands."

The healer brings up his empty hands before her to prove his words. She nods.

He slightly pushes and traces his fingers along different parts of her limbs, causing her to whine and moan, but his gentle voice keeps nerves intact. After the quick examination, he releases his rolled up sleeves:

"Your limbs suffer inner muscular damage. It's not dangerous; it will heal and won't leave a trace, but it takes time. I will have the nurse bring you a potion for that. Usually all the pain will go away in two weeks, but for the first week you won't be able to move. Otherwise you are fine, just take a rest and relax, Miss."

The healer delivers her another gentle smile. Ella blinks and looks around:

"Where am I, sir?"

"Oh. You are in St Mungo's hospital. This is your private room."

"St Mungo's hospital?"

"Yes. Do you have any question now? If not I'll let you rest."

"When can I go home?"

The healer pauses for a second before answering:

"I'll pay you a visit again at noon tomorrow and we'll see. But for now you can rest and relax, Miss. Do you need something?"

"No, sir. Thank you. I just want to go home."

"You will as soon as we see that it's safe for you to do so. I'll let you rest then?"

Ella nods. The healer smiles once more before leaving the room. She immediately turns to Severus.

"Want to sit up?," he asks.

"Yes."

He wraps his arms around her, lifts her up, puts her on his lap and rest her head on his shoulder.

Secured in the familiar embrace, she melts down and starts to sob. She sobs freely, without a word, like a small child.

Severus quietly rocks her back and forth. The moment his hand starts to rub along her spine, she gasps.

"No! Don't do that!," she exclaims and shuts her eyes.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't rub my back!," she begs.

"I won't, I won't," he whispers and holds her closer. "But you used to like it?"

"No, don't do that again!," she weeps into his shoulder.

"What have they done to you?!," he exclaims with a choke in his throat. "What have they done to you?!"

Ella sniffs:

"Don't make me talk about it!"

"No, you don't have to," he lowers his voice. "You don't have to talk about it now. I'm sorry."

He strikes his fingers through her hair and slightly turns to place a kiss on her cheek. He whispers with a tearful voice:

"I'm sorry, love. It's my fault. I shouldn't have left you alone."

"No, it's not your fault," she lets out between her sniffs. "You didn't want it, love. Not your fault."

He quietly kisses her several more times, well until her weeping ceases.

"Do you want to sit more or do you want to lie down?," he asks.

"I want to lie down."

She wonders how his movements can be that strong and precise. He lies her down as easily as when he lifted her up. He tucks her in and clears her face of her hair.

"When was I brought here?," she asks.

"This morning."

"Who rescued me?"

"The Aurors."

She falls silent. Severus continues to strike through her hair:

"I'm glad you are fine," he says quietly and places another kiss on her forehead.

"How long have I been missing?"

"Seven days."

"Seven days? My classes…"

"Oh, Ella…," he moans. "The last thing you should worry about now is your classes. Charity has been taking care of them. Every thing is well. You should worry about yourself."

Ella sighs. Seven days. She has missed out quite a few things.

"Tristan is sleeping at my home," Severus continues. "He was in the Ministry well until late evening today to sort out your case with the Law Enforcement Office. And block out the overly nosy journalists too."

"Tristan has come here?," Ella rounds her eyes.

"Yes. When the Aurors were searching your quarter, he called you. I decided to answer his call and let him know. We have been in touch so I can keep him informed. I hope it doesn't bother you that I answered his call on your behalf."

"No, it's fine. He would have been worried to death if you hadn't. He's always a bit paranoid about my safety," she smiles.

"Oh, you are smiling again, my love."

Severus lowers his head to kiss her cheek, and she kisses him back with a giggle. She is feeling so warm, so peaceful, so alive. She is alive. Still alive, and in one piece. Mostly so.

"Are you hungry?"

"No," she blinks. "That's strange though…"

"You were fed by the Nurturing Charm while you were unconscious."

"Uh huh? That's why I don't feel hungry."

"And that's good."

"I want to go home," she drops her eyes.

"To Finland?," he asks, puzzled.

"No. I want to go home with you."

He freezes on the spot. She ignores it. She REALLY wants to go home with him.

"We will, as soon as the healers let you go."

"It's late. You should sleep. You look terrible," she nags.

"The best I could look after you have been missing for a week, Miss," he sighs with annoyance.

"I know. I love you," she whispers.

"I love you too. Good night."

He rises and pulls out the guest bed besides her bed.

"Can you come closer?," she murmurs.

"Of course."

He moves his bed adjacent to hers. He lies down and silently slides his hand under the blanket to hold her hand.

Wrapped in the comfort, she falls fast asleep.


	32. Chapter 32 - Loved

**Author's note**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 32

 **LOVED**

The brown-haired, brown-eyed man in a brown suit sits in silence, his hand wildly striking his hair to all directions.

He is Tristan Flandin. When Tristan Flandin sits in silence and messes up his hair, it means life has totally screwed up and he is in a complete loss of words.

"You look like something has gone seriously wrong," Ella slightly adjusts her neck on the pillow she is leaning at, the only movement she is capable of at the moment.

"Something has gone seriously wrong indeed," Tristan exclaims. "Did you know that someone had just gone missing for a good seven days and came back hanging an inch from death?"

He has a special superpower. He can, though unintentionally, always amuse Ella Virtanen in the worst of the worst moments. She has just thrown up half of her breakfast, can hardly move and is confined in her sickbed in a hospital, but she can't fight back a chuckle:

"But I'm here and I'm alive, still."

"Thanks my lucky stars," he sighs loudly. "When I saw you yesterday, the only thing I wanted to do is to go and murder all of them," he hisses through his teeth.

"No Tristan, please don't ever do that. Your duel skills are terrible."

"They might significantly improve when fuelled with anger," he shoots her a tiresome look and for the first time since he arrived, he smiles.

"What did I do to deserve a friend like you?," Ella asks blankly.

"You know what you did," he smirks.

"They were arrested, I assume?," Ella's voice falls quiet.

"One of them escaped. The other three were arrested, yes."

Ella's heart jumps at the question as to which one escaped. She makes enormous effort to drive the thought out of her mind.

"When will I be required to give my account?"

"Only when you feel you are ready to do so."

"There must be a deadline though?"

"Not any time soon. For now you should focus fully on patching yourself up."

"Can you get me some water?"

"No."

With that he stands up to fetch a glass of water and feeds it to his bed-bound friend with a straw.

"Drink a little more," he nags when she releases the straw. "You look like a piece of land suffering a severe drought."

"You are not my healer," she rolls her eyes.

"I'm your lawyer and in this case it's kind of the same thing."

She still refuses to drink more. Instead, she fixes him a good glare. Putting the glass on the nightstand, he winks:

"On a lighter note, I'm glad to know you are in love and won't resign from teaching."

Caught off guard, Ella flushes to the top of her ears. She moans:

"Did the two of you gossip about me?"

"Why on earth would we have not gossiped about you while you were absent?," he grins mischievously.

Suddenly, Ella gasps. Someone has just knocked the door and it startles her.

"It's okay, I believe it's just your nurse," he stands up to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder and clenches his teeth. "They deserve a life sentence."

Ella tries to regain her breaths. She still gets startled all the time by the tiniest moves that take place behind her back. Tristan slides the door ajar and informs her over his shoulder:

"It's Severus and Harry."

"Ouch!," Ella cries.

She has just forgot about her condition and attempted to turn herself towards the door, resulting in the familiar waves of pain in her limbs.

"Professor!," Harry exclaims while running around the bed to come facing her. "Professor! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she smiles.

Noticing the boy's awkward movements, she chuckles:

"I would hug you but at the moment I can't move."

"Can I hug you?," he immediately reacts without much thinking.

"Oh, certainly. Go ahead."

It is a really weird hug when his skinny arms try to wrap around an immobile adult being kept vertical by a huge amount of pillows.

"Good too see you again, kid," she softly says. I thought I would never see you again."

The boy releases her and takes off his glasses to wipe his tears. He sniffs:

"We were so worried about you."

Before Ella can reply, he opens his overloaded shoulder bag to show her the inside :

"The other students asked me to bring you their cards and gifts."

"Oh my, you guys are so sweet," she blinks.

"That is because someone has been giving them too much sweets this year, I suppose," Severus sits down on the edge of her bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I threw up my breakfast," she sighs. "But otherwise the same as when you left."

"Hmm? The food was too bad?"

"I have no idea. My digestive track had its own will."

"I will make your favourite salmon soup once we are home," he absentmindedly removes the strands of hair on her cheek.

Ella frowns:

"I don't recall telling you about my favourite food."

"I heard it from Tristan."

She shoots Tristan another glare. He pretends to look another way innocently. Another series of knocks on the door startles her. The door opens and someone steps in.

"Good morning, Miss Virtanen," her healer's gentle voice greets.

"Good morning, sir," she answers with her back turned towards him. "Sev, can you flip me? I want to be on my back."

Her wish is quickly granted. The healer pulls out a chair from the closet corner and sits down.

"How are you today?," he asks.

"The same as yesterday, sir," she replies.

"The nurse said you threw up your breakfast. How is your stomach feeling?"

"It doesn't feel anything much."

"Do you feel like eating now? Do you have appetite?"

"No, sir."

"I see. Now I need to check your stomach. Let me help you lie down."

He is about to pull out his wand when he notices her terrified look. He tucks it back in his robe:

"No worries, no wand. We can do it manually."

"I can help," Severus says and before long, he has completed the task nicely.

"Thank you, Professor."

Professor? Ella raises an eyebrow. The healer has now rolled up his sleeves and is pressing his hands in different positions around her stomach.

"This is probably because you have not been eating for a while," he concludes. "Your digestive system seems to need some more time to adapt. Today you will be nourished using the Nurturing Charm but the nurses will follow a procedure to get you back to normal eating."

"When can I go home, sir?"

Pausing for a moment, he asks:

"Is there someone in your family who can tend to your needs all day? Do you have a family here?"

"Uhm… no…"

"She can stay with me," Severus cuts in.

"Do you still have to work, sir?" the healer turns to him.

"During the day, yes…"

"Will Miss Virtanen and you stay at Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Severus and Ella answer in chorus.

"Let me think…," the healer trails off.

A minute later, he looks at Ella:

"It can be arranged so that you will stay in the Infirmary and be tended to by Madam Pomfrey. I will come daily by Floo via the emergency transfer line to check on you."

"But that will be the same as staying here," Ella protests. "Can I stay in my quarter? Or his quarter?"

"I'm afraid not, Miss. You still need constant medical attention. It would be possible if a family member could tend to you at all times, but otherwise it's not safe for you to be at home now."

Ella sighs helplessly.

"Is there anything we can do to make your stay here more comfortable?"

"No," she shakes her head. "Thank you, sir. I just don't like hospitals."

"I see. I'm sorry, Miss, but your safety is the first priority. Only one week and then I believe you will be fine enough to go home."

"I see," she sighs again.

"So the nurse will give you lunch in a moment," the healer stands up. "Have a good day, Miss Virtanen, and I will see you tomorrow. Have a good day, everyone."

The healer leaves. Tristan speaks up from the wall he is leaning against:

"You will pull through this week, no worries. I will be here to entertain you when Severus is at work."

"Don't you have to work too?," Ella raises an eyebrow.

"I am conveniently taking my annual vacation this month."

"Convenient indeed," she eyes him suspiciously.

He grins:

"I will go eat something and be back in a few hours."

"Have a nice meal."

"You too."

As soon as Tristan has left, the nurse comes in to administer the Nurturing Charm. Ella feels like her stomach were turned into a cooking pot, but it is easy to ignore the unpleasant sensations because Harry is reading the cards to her during the process. It is always interesting and amusing to read the kids' writings. Some of them even brought her to tears.

"Your students really love you, Miss Virtanen," the nurse smiles.

"Not all of them, madam," Ella chuckles. "But most of them are kind and loving kids."

"By the sound of it I'm pretty sure you are a good teacher. It's done now. Are you feeling okay?"

"Quite okay, madam. Thank you."

"Great. Please call me if you need something. Otherwise see you at dinner time."

"See you."

Once the nurse has closed the door behind her, Harry asks:

"Dad said you are going to spend the summer at our home?"

Ella quietly eyes Severus before answering:

"I have work to do in Britain in July and August and I plan to rent a room at your home instead of staying in inns. That way your dad can also help me with transportation. But is it okay for you?"

"What do you mean, Professor?," he blinks. "I would love to have you spending the summer with us."

Ella beams:

"I would love it too. And call me 'Ella' in private."

"Ella," he repeats shyly.

The hospital stay is significantly easier with pleasant company at all times. She feels a twist in her stomach every time she looks at Severus. He fills all the gaps in his schedule with visiting her and sleeps in the hospital every single night. He brings homework to grade when she is asleep, disappears to do his patrol every evening and comes back the minute it is over. He also offers Tristan his home as accommodation.

On top of that, cards and gifts keep flooding in, to the point that it overwhelms her. So much care, so much love. Only a few days ago, what she was surrounded by were hatred, insults, assault and torture.

Every time someone mentions how good a teacher she is, her heart dropped to her stomach. She has learnt her lesson. Once the circumstance allows, there is at least one student who would slap and kick and torture her in revenge.

She still has not figured out how to ask about him without unintentionally revealing his participation in the crime. There are still a lot of questions she needs to seek answers for before conclusively shattering his life yet further.


	33. Chapter 33 - The wanted child

**_Warning_**

 _This chapter involves the mention of rape._

 ** _Author's note_**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 33

 **THE WANTED CHILD**

"Sev…"

"Hmm?"

"Oh I forgot," Ella exclaims. "I shouldn't call you that. I'm sorry."

Severus quickly eyes her before continuing to brush and braid her hair:

"Don't be. You can call me that if you like."

"But you don't like it."

"I have never said I don't like it."

After fastening the end of the braid with a hair band, he turns to look her in the eyes:

"My weird reaction was because that was how Lily used to call me."

"Really?," Ella rounds her eyes. "See? I told you your name is long."

"It's one syllable longer than yours," he sneers. "You were going to ask me something?"

"Ah, yes," she lowers her voice. "I was going to say that maybe you should sleep at home sometimes to get your rest. You look terribly tired. And you have to work."

"Do you think you will be fine sleeping alone in this room?," he asks blankly.

"Uhm…," her eyes drop. "Well, no."

"Exactly."

He dips the white towel in the bowl of warm water on the nightstand, dries it and starts to mop sleepiness off her face:

"It's only one week. I can manage. We are going home soon and then all will be fine."

Ella relaxingly leans her head backwards:

"I have been thinking. Would you mind if I stay at your home in June as well?"

Severus raises and eyebrow:

"Why are you asking? I thought it were obvious. You still have a lot of follow up appointments in June. That is not to mention obtaining your new travel documents and dealing with the legal procedures."

"That's what I mean. Of course I have to ask because the previous agreement is that I stay with you in July and August."

"You can stay with me twelve months a year if you like," he softly smiles. "Do you plan to go back to Finland at some point later this summer though?"

"I will see, but probably not. I don't want my parents to see me in this shape."

He gives her a questioning glance. She chuckles:

"They already grew enough grey hair raising me to adulthood. As an adult I avoid giving them more when I can. They would probably have died from heart attacks long ago if I didn't."

"Does it mean you are a very caring daughter or am I to understand that you used to be quite a challenging child?"

"The later," she grins.

"Interesting. It's hard to imagine your younger self to be anything other than a Finnish Hermione Granger."

"Aw, you don't know anything," she chuckles. "I was a very weak child. I got sick so often that I basically spent half of my childhood in hospitals. And when I was not in hospital, I ran around getting into trouble."

"That sounds like a lot of grey hair for your parents indeed," he smirks.

"I was the type of child you would catch venturing in the Forbidden Forest once a month had I attended Hogwarts."

"Thanks my lucky stars you didn't," he rolls his eyes. "Is that the reason for your excessive leniency to children?"

She giggles:

"Probably. To be honest, few of them exceed my level."

He shakes his head with amusement. Suddenly, Ella's voice falls quiet:

"Sev?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you heard of Mr Malfoy's whereabouts after his expulsion?"

"No," he raises an eyebrow. "Why are you asking?"

She drops her eyes:

"I'm just wondering."

Severus sighs:

"His parents cut contact with me after I had 'failed' to prevent his expulsion."

"What do mean 'failed to prevent' it? It's far beyond your responsibilities, or your power to influence for that matter. He committed a crime."

"You don't know the Malfoys. They don't think in fairness or reason. They take into account nothing apart from their privileges and getting what they want at all cost."

"I see," Ella sighs.

"I have to be at school for the morning," Severus stands up, pulls her into a hug and kisses her forehead. "See you after lunch."

"See you, love."

Shortly after Severus left, the nurse arrives with Ella's breakfast. Her appetite remains out or order and the sight of food is therefore less pleasant to her than it should.

"How are you, Ella?," the nurse smiles while setting her up for the meal.

"I'm good, Kate, except I still don't feel like eating," Ella moans.

"No worries, dear. We will do it slowly. You will be back to normal soon."

Ella eyes the bowl of porridge, a quarter the size of her usual portion but looking intimidating nevertheless. The nurse feeds her with a baby spoon. Yes, a baby spoon, no exaggeration.

Her digestion seems to have improved, however, since the porridge travels all the way down to her stomach meeting less protest than it did the previous days. She is glad the feeding is done before Tristan comes, otherwise he would laugh his heart out and annoy her to no end.

"How are you today, Miss?," Tristan asks while placing his chair next to her bed and wiping his reading glasses.

"I ate a baby-sized bowl of porridge without throwing up, if that counts."

"Of course it does," he beams. "That means you are well on the way back to your big eater self."

Another improvement is that today she is already able to clumsily flip herself from her back to her side. Hence she does that and eyes the man expectantly. He holds up the book in his hand:

"Are you going to inform me as to why you suddenly want me to read you this particular book today?"

The book is as thick as most books of its kind, bearing in silver a drawing of the scales of justice and the title _THE JUVENILE CRIMINAL CODE OF MAGICAL BRITAIN._ Ella stares at it and replies blankly:

"Please read it to me."

Tristan glances at her suspiciously before opening the book:

"Are you interested in some particular parts or do you seriously want me to read all of it to you?"

"Can you show me the table of contents?"

Her wish is granted, but he studies her more closely and cautiously. She spends an excessive amount of time contemplating the table of contents. How could she possibly ask him to read certain parts to her without giving away what is in her mind?

"Is it possible that you charm it to hold itself at my eye level and turn the pages as I command by my thoughts?"

"I'm incapable of such advanced charms," he sighs, "if such a charm does exist at all."

Without a reply, she continues browsing the table of contents, trying to figure out how to beat around the bush and still get the information she wants.

"Ella?," Tristan speaks up, his voice unusually serious.

"Hmm?," she tries to appear absentminded while her heart actually jumps. Tristan rarely talks to her in that voice.

"Are you worrying about some kid who has been involved in a crime?"

"No," she answers quickly.

"Then why are you choosing to entertain yourself with a juvenile criminal code while you are in sickbed and can hardly move or even eat?"

"You asked if I wanted you to read me something," she exclaims with annoyance. "If you don't feel like doing it any more, I'm fine with it."

"When did I say I don't feel like reading to you any more?," Tristan sighs loudly. "I'm just worried about you."

Instinctively, her eyes snap up to look at her friend, but as soon as she meets his gaze, she turns her head away.

"There is nothing to worry about me," she murmurs.

"Ella."

The sound of the book slamming close almost startles her. Tristan's sharp and serious voice follows suit:

"Look at me, Ella."

She still looks the other way:

"What?"

"Ella! Why on earth would you avoid my eyes?"

"You need some more rest, Tristan. You are almost yelling at me."

The man lets out the loudest sigh she has ever heard and rises from his seat, storming his way to the room's corner to get himself a full glass of water, which he spends several minutes drinking.

Putting down the glass, he takes a glance at his friend, who has technically flipped herself to the other side and turned her back towards him.

With a violent rubbing at the top of his head, he walks to the other side of the bed and sits down on its edge.

"I'm sorry. Don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," she murmurs without looking at him.

"Then why don't you prove it by actually looking at me?"

Ella sighs and brings her cold gaze to his bright and moist brown eyes.

"We need to talk about it, Ella. This is serious."

"What is serious?," she keeps her expression blank.

"Was there a child involved in your kidnap?"

"Why would you ask such a question?!"

She tries to make her voice sound harsh, but her entire being is shaking. She hopes against hopes that Tristan can't see it.

She flips to the other side again but Tristan is determined to follow where she looks. He sits down and says with little left of his usual patience and calmness:

"If one is aware of a crime and those who are involved in it, they are obliged to report to the authorities, Ella. You don't get to choose."

She drops her head between her shoulders and studies the hospital's blanket in silence. Tristan sighs:

"The three members of the gang who were arrested are all adults. I guess the child is the one who is running loose."

Something breaks Ella and reduces her to tears. She doesn't even know what it is. Tristan stands up and walks to the room's window. Propping his arm against its frame, he looks out and says in a deep, quiet voice:

"I understand why you would be protective of a child. But think of those who will fall victim to him in the future. Think of those who won't be as lucky as you were."

That sends a loud cry out of Ella's chest. She exclaims in between her sniffles:

"He's a child, Tristan! He's only a child!"

Tristan loses his last drop of patience. He abruptly turns to look at her and lets his anger flood out:

"They almost killed you, Ella! It was sheer dumb luck that you didn't rot to death in their hands!"

Ella snaps her head up and shoots her tearful look straight into his eyes:

"You were a child too, once upon a time, Tristan. Don't you remember?"

"WHY WOULD YOU BRING IT UP NOW?," he roars.

With that he storms out of the room and slams the door behind him, leaving Ella sobbing into her pillow. The tension in her chest makes her cough badly.

She thought she would cry herself to sleep to get away from all this mess, but before long Tristan comes back, splashes of water spotting his hair and collar, his sleeves slightly rolled up.

"I'm sorry, Ella," he swallows.

He sits down on her bedside again and hands her a handkerchief. Only after almost a minute does he realise she still cannot move her limbs. He sighs:

"Look, let me wipe you tears for you."

Ella lets him do that without much reaction. After he is done, he suddenly bends forward and buries his face in his hands, his arms propped on his knees. Ella takes a glance and sees him trembling in his own sobs.

"I'm sorry, Tristan, I didn't mean to…"

"No, it's fine," he rubs his palms over his eyes and rises his head to look her in the eyes.

A long silence endures before he speaks up again, quietly:

"Tell me how I can help. Tell me about what happened."

Ella makes a failed attempt to curl herself up. The pain startles her. She sniffles:

"I can't talk about it now. It's…"

Another two streams of tears run down her cheeks. Tristan sighs:

"I understand."

He props his chin on his interlocked fingers and sinks deep in thoughts. Ella quietly rights herself on the bed.

"Have you talked to Severus about it?," he asks without looking at her.

"No," she shakes he head.

"Do you intend to?"

"Yes, when I manage to. Why are you asking?"

He sighs again and sits up tall:

"If you only recall the memories without talking out loud about them, will it be easier?"

Ella raises an eyebrow. Tristan explains:

"There is one alternative way to describe your experiences without expressing them in words. You recall them in your mind and a skilled wizard or witch can extract a copy of those memories from you meanwhile. They can then be transferred to and viewed by other people in a pensieve."

"What is a pensieve?," she asks curiously.

"A device used to contain and display memory extractions. It can be used in legal procedures but very rarely. Very few wizards and witches are capable of extracting memories from either their own or other people's minds."

"Can you do that?"

"No, unfortunately," he blinks tiresomly.

"Then how…"

"Severus can."

Ella rounds her eyes:

"How do you know?"

"His living room, where I slept, hosts a fair amount of materials on that branch of magic. I asked him about them a bit, out of professional curiosity. And I learnt that he is one of the few who are able to do it."

That afternoon, Severus transports his pensieve to Ella's hospital room. She would rise and make observations and take notes of the object's fancy appearance were she not overwhelmed by her injuries, physical and mental. Severus wraps his arm around her back and holds her close. He gently explains:

"I will have to use my wand. It will touch your temple very slightly, and that's it. You won't feel any sensations otherwise. You can close your eyes or look the other way if you don't want to see the wand, and focus on recalling the memories. I know that would be difficult but I trust you can do it, and I'm right here with you, love."

Ella nods, bracing herself for the coming pain:

"What if I get distracted?"

"It's totally fine, we can always figure it out when we view them. No stress, just think of it as a conversation between us."

"I see."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Ella closes her eyes. Severus secures her in his embrace and points the wand's tip at her temple. Tears start to stream out of the corners of her eyes.

The memories come back at random and in chaos. She shrinks and moans at the slaps, the kicks, the dragging and tossing. Her breaths choke at the sight of a wand raising at her and shoots out a Cruciatus. And then the confusing, puzzling pieces of the men and Malfoys' behavior besides the assaults.

Strangely, she suddenly feels so calm and light. She slowly opens her eyes and eases her head of Severus' shoulder.

"Is that all?," he asks gently.

She nods.

"You did it very well, love," he squeezes her before releasing his arm and rising.

Ella glances at the table the men have moved to the center of the room. Her memories are held in a set of several vials. Severus carefully unplugs each of them and pour the silver liquid into the pensieve.

The two men immerse their face in the antique object. Ten minutes later, Tristan springs up from it and swirls around to punch at the closet wall.

"DAMN IT!," he curses at the top of his lungs.

Severus slowly rises and without a word, he comes looking out from the window with a deep frown on his forehead.

After a few loud, tense breaths, Tristan turns to face Ella and pinches the bridge of his nose:

"I'm sorry. It's just… unbearable to see you going through all that."

Ella believes he is secretly wiping a way a drop of tears.

"Do you notice something strange?," Ella asks, eyeing the two men. "I really wonder if some part of my memory was erased."

Tristan throws himself down to a chair and traces his fingers on her bedsheet:

"I haven't told you because I wanted to wait until you are well again. But your medical examination reveals the same story."

He raises his eyes to meet hers:

"You were not raped. All of your outer injuries pointed towards that direction but strangely, you were not actually raped. In other words, you looked like you had been raped but in fact you were not."

"And the one who gave you your outer injuries was Draco," Severus slowly lets out every word while turning to look at her.

All the pieces in her mind abruptly click up and assemble themselves into a comprehensible picture. She frowns:

"He also tore up my clothes."

"And made it look even more convincingly like you had been raped," Tristan muses.

"Why would he do that?," Ella clenches her teeth in a desperate effort to comprehend the whole thing.

Severus starts to pace the room:

"The only plausible explanation is that he was trying to prevent the actual rape from happening. It looks like he had been casting the Memory Charm on the grown-up gang members several times and given them the illusion that they had done it to you. But it wouldn't have been convincing if you hadn't got any bruises or wounds from it. Beating you up physically might very well have been the only way he knew of to fake them up."

Ella gasps. She stares at Severus, her jaw dropped in disbelief.

"I will have someone search for him," Severus ceases his steps.

"How?," Ella rounds her eyes.

"I have my connections," he muses. "Shouldn't take long if he is still running homeless somewhere in Britain."

Tristan massages his temples:

"And if you want to make any difference, you'd have to find him before the Aurors do."


	34. Chapter 34 - Lost and found

**_Author's note_**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 34

 **LOST AND FOUND**

"Ouch!"

Ella almost drops the hairbrush. A sharp stabbing pang in her upper arm has dismissed her effort to raise it over her eye level.

"Let me help with that," Severus rolls towards her and sits up on the bed.

"No, I can manage."

She embarks on trying to brush her hair again, this time by lowering her head to her arm level.

"Ouch!"

The brush drops when the pain hits her at another spot. Severus chuckles and bends over to pick it up. In a swift movement, he turns her chair from facing the mirror to facing him and gets down to the task he has been doing the past week, which is to brush and braid her hair every morning.

"You do it even better than me," Ella says. "And it's my hair."

"Because you are too lazy to do anything other than pulling all of it into a careless bun."

"My best effort is to refrain from shaving it all off already."

"Don't do that. There you go," he secures the braid with a hair band and takes the chance to steal a kiss on her forehead.

She was released from hospital yesterday, her movements are still limited but she was basically capable of moving around and feeding herself. She spent a quiet day behind close doors in her Hogwarts quarter packing up to leave for the summer. On the day students departed for London, Harry went straight to Black's house to spend the first two weeks of his holiday there, hence she and Severus came home own their own. That is if Tristan is not counted.

The attic of Severus' house, which Ella initially intended to rent for July and August, is now hosting Tristan, and she is sharing Severus' room instead. Tristan spends most of his time up there doing research for her case.

Ella struggles at every step along the way downstairs and sighs with relief once she reaches the ground floor. The smell of food fills the hallway. This means Tristan is up.

"Morning," he grins at the couple before taking another bite off his toast.

"You are still eating rye bread after all these years," Ella says while making her way to the refrigerator.

"Sit down, let me do it," Severus commands from behind her and conveniently pushes her down the closet chair. "Toast or porridge?"

"Toast. I have had enough porridge for this entire summer."

Severus proceeds to preparing the breakfast. Ella takes a glance at the front page of the newspaper Tristan has disappeared behind:

"Any news?"

"Lots of news but nothing worth attention," he puts the paper down and picks up his coffee. "How are you today?"

"Same as yesterday," Ella shrugs. "How is it going?"

"Pretty fine. Have you thought of how you would like to give your account at court? Verbally or by means of memory extraction?"

Ella rotates her tea cup and drops her eyes:

"Verbally."

"Very well."

"How long do we have before I must do it?"

"I would say until the end of this week. You would need sound medical grounds to delay it further."

Ella sighs:

"I see."

It has been a few days since Severus sent his acquaintances on the search for Malfoy. Reports come every evening but so far it has been unfruitful.

Tristan rises:

"I'm going to the Ministry's library to pick up some materials."

"Will you be back for lunch?," Severus asks.

"Yes."

As soon as Tristan opens the front door to leave, an owl storms over his head and enters the kitchen to drop its posts. Ella gives the bird a coin and pets it a little before opening the window to let it go.

"A mail for you from Finland," Severus absentmindedly hands her an envelope.

Ella smiles. Her parents always prefer muggle pens and paper to quill and parchment, which makes their posts to her always standing out among the parchment rolls and wax seals. She sits down and tears the envelope open.

"My parents ask if you would come with me and pay a visit this Christmas."

Severus snaps his head up from what he is reading. He looks absolutely hilarious. Ella giggles:

"Well?"

"Did you tell them about us?"

"Of course I did. Do you think they would invite random people from Britain to Finland for Christmas?"

Severus flushes to the top of his ears. Ella props her chin in her hand:

"Well?"

"I will see," he murmurs. "Did you tell them about Harry too?"

"Of course I did. And yes the invitation includes him too. My dad is already devising hippogriff plans to entertain him."

"Hippogriff plans?"

"He runs a hippogriff farm and keeps one at home as a pet. Her name is Tekla."

"A hippogriff as a pet," he rounds his eyes. "Sounds like what Mr Potter would find entertaining indeed."

"I take it as a yes then?"

"I will see," he swallows.

"My parents are hospitable. They are not going to drown you in an ice hole… Well, they might. But otherwise they are easy-going and…"

"Are you deliberately trying to talk me out of it?," he snorts.

Ella laughs:

"I said nothing of the sort. And ice holes are just one fraction of the fun."

Someone knocks the door. Three slow knocks with even sounds followed by another quicker ones. They eye each other. Severus pulls his wand out of his sleeves before rising to answer the door.

"Enter," he commands.

Brisk, heavy footsteps walk pass the hallway, into the living room. Ella rushes there. Her heart jumps at the scene. A man – Severus' agency – is dragging a boy by bis collar. The boy is dressed in rags and his hair discoloured in dust and dirt. They are turning their back to the door, facing Severus.

Without a word, Severus holds out one hand. The man produces a wand. He quickly collects it and tucks it away in his pocket. He raises his own wand at the boy and makes a quick flick. Noise immediately bursts out:

"LET GO OF ME! DAMN IT!"

"Silence!"

Severus roars in his classic teacher voice and sends everyone, including Ella, obediently quiet.

"Do refrain from yelling and foul language unless you happen to enjoy functioning under a Silence Charm. You may leave, Kit. Thank you."

The man named Kit quickly releases the boy's collar and storms pass Ella on his way out. Once the front door clicks close, she enters the living room. Hearing her steps, the boy turns to look over his shoulder.

"Hello, Mr Malfoy."

He gasps, drops his jaw and hurriedly retreats to the closet corner, his eyes staring at her in terror.

Severus gives him a cold glance:

"Yes, she is Professor Virtanen. And no, she is not going to eat you alive. I might, however, should you fail to behave yourself."

"Sev!," Ella hisses. "Don't be scared, Mr Malfoy. You are safe."

Not managing to pick up his jaw, the boy mutters between his gasps:

"W…w…"

"Why is she here?," Severus cuts in. "For your information, she is spending the summer here."

The boy abruptly shuttles his gaze between the two adults:

"What do you want from me?"

Severus leisurely rolls up his sleeves:

"What do we want from you? Well, there are several things we want from you but perhaps let's start with a shower. Follow me this instant."

Without another word, he proceeds out of the room and walks upstairs. Malfoy runs after him, constantly stealing looks at Ella in the process.

As water starts to run in the bathroom, Severus comes back to the kitchen, where Ella is searching the refrigerator.

"Does he have clothes to change?," she asks.

"I resized some of mine for him."

"I'm making him some food. Do you happen to know what he likes?"

"He will eat whatever we give him. This is not a restaurant."

"If we are going to give him food anyway, why not giving him something he likes?"

"Fine," Severus sighs. "Toast and bacon. For Merlin's sake, by all means please don't go and cuddle him just yet. You would scare him to death."

"It's you who is scaring him to death… ouch!"

Ella rubs the spot on her arm that pained when she flipped the bacon. Severus sits down at the table:

"He knows me well enough to recognise my empty threats."

"Did you tell him to come down to eat?"

"Yes, and he is coming."

Ella transports his plate to the table and opens the refrigerator again. When she picks up the milk carton, she feels a violent tug in her heart.

"Sit and eat," Severus says.

She glances over her shoulder. The boy has come clean but otherwise still looks terrible. He didn't bother to comb his hair. His eyes are dark inside out, and his form is literally skin hanging on a skeleton.

Ella puts a glass of milk next to his plate and receives a glare in return.

"Drop that glare, boy," Severus says.

The boy moves slowly and cautiously, but the moment the first fork of food enters his mouth, he loses it. He shoves and swallows the food as if he had never, ever been fed before in his life.

"Chew, Mr Malfoy," Ella frowns. "You'd hurt your stomach if you keep swallowing it like that."

"Drop that glare, boy," Severus repeats. "This is the second time. If I have to tell you the third time, I assure you you won't like the consequence."

Ella slightly punches Severus' waist under the table but receives another glare from himself. She props her cheek in one hand and studies Malfoy.

"Go to the living room and rest," Severus says once the boy finishes eating. "There is a throw blanket on the couch."

"Give me back my wand," Malfoy says and fixes a glare on his former Head of House.

"Learn to take 'no' as an answer, Draco."

"You can't keep it! It's mine!"

"I'm sorry to break it to you but I actually CAN."

"You don't have the right to…"

"Guess which thirteen year old boy HAS the right to run homeless?"

That brings flames to his eyes. He clenches his teeth:

"THEY DISOWNED ME!"

Ella and Severus freeze.

"Your parents disowned you?," Severus raise his eyebrows.

Malfoy's breaths shortens. Severus abruptly rises from his seat and comes placing his hand on the boy's shoulder:

"Come along."

He guides Malfoy to the couch in the living room and pushes him down:

"Take a nap. We will talk when you are up."

Once back in the kitchen, Severus immediately places a Silence Charm around them.

"Where will he sleep at night?," Ella asks.

Severus pinches the bridge of his nose:

"I'm asking myself the same question. He'll probably have to go for the couch for now."

"Can you transfigure it into a proper bed or something?"

"Possible. I will."

"Would you like some tea?"

Without waiting for his answer, Ella stands up to brew them a full pot. Severus sinks deep in thoughts, a frown staying still on his forehead. Every now and then, he sighs.

Ella decides to start preparing lunch, hoping for some magical ideas to pop out of the smoke by itself.

"Does he eat salmon?"

"He eats whatever we give him," Severus answers blankly.

"No allergies?"

"Last time I checked, no."

"Tristan is home, I assume."

Someone has just opened the front door and walked in. As expected, a brown, wavy head of hair peeks in:

"Hello again. The food smells good."

"We have news," Severus says.

Ella looks over her shoulder and finds a puzzled Tristan.

"We've found Draco," Severus adds.


	35. Chapter 35 - Black sheep

**_Author's note_**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 35

 **BLACK SHEEP**

"I'll wake him up for lunch."

Ella takes off the apron and goes to the living room.

The curtains have been closed to give the room a peaceful dark shade. She quietly approaches the couch. To her surprise, she hears Malfoy sobbing.

His eyes are closed, yet tears are freely streaming out. He is curled up into a ball and hugging a worn-out and terribly dirty bundle.

Crouching down, she gently shakes his arm:

"Mr Malfoy?"

His eyes shoot open. The next moment, Ella's hands snap up to cover her ears.

"NO! I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT! I DIDN'T WANT TO! I'M SORRY!"

He shrinks away from her, retreats to the further end of the couch and curls up into a tighter ball, his forehead resting on his knees. His small, slim form trembles with each sob.

Severus and Tristan have arrived at the scene. Everyone falls into absolute silence, except the crying boy. Ella carefully moves closer to him, her teeth clenching at the pangs in her legs.

"I didn't want to! I'm sorry!," Malfoy exclaims between his sniffles.

"You didn't want to do what?," Ella asks.

He buries his face deeper in his knees and turbulently shakes his head.

"Mr Malfoy?"

"I didn't want to hurt you!"

Ella hears the two men sigh behind her back. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she says:

"Look up. Look at me."

No reaction. She firmly reaches inside his folded arms, grabs his chin and drives him to meeting her gaze. He shuts his eyes and braces himself for an attack.

"I have heard you," says Ella.

Malfoy gasps. Slowly, his eyes open.

"Look at me," she tightens her grip and drives him to looking her in the eyes. "I have heard you. And I believe you."

His gaze grows into a stare and his entire being freezes.

"Do you understand?," Ella asks.

The boy remains dumbstruck. She takes a deep inhale:

"I have heard you and I believe you. We will talk about it. But now it's lunch time. We'll have lunch, then you can talk about it and we are here to listen. Do you understand, Mr Malfoy?"

Silence. Ella releases her grip and rises but falls back down midway.

"Ouch!," she groans.

Severus catches her arm and rights her on her feet.

"Wash you face and be ready for lunch, Draco," he says quietly.

The boy still makes no move. Severus bends over to pick up his hand and walks him upstairs.

Once the table is set, Ella steals a look at Tristan. He has been unusually quiet, leaning against the kitchen's door frame with his hands in his pockets, sinking deep in thoughts.

His musing is interrupted when Malfoy arrives at said door and suddenly ceases his steps. He studies the strange man with caution. With a half smile, Tristan holds out his hand:

"Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy. I'm Tristan Flandin. Nice to meet you."

"Flandin?," Malfoy rounds his eyes. "Is it the Flandin House of Royalty in France?"

Pausing for a moment, Tristan raises an eyebrow:

"I'm surprised you know of my kin, Mr Malfoy. Yes, it's that Flandin."

Malfoy gasps:

"So you are a descendant of King Reynaud?"

Severus elbows his way into the kitchen and settles besides Ella. Tristan stands up taller:

"Yes. You seem quite informed about the Flandin House, huh?"

"My grandpa told me about it. Is it true that until today all the Flandins still only marry purebloods?"

"Yes, that's true, unfortunately," replies Tristan. "And you are talking to a black sheep Flandin, just so you know."

Malfoy blinks at the statement. Tristan explains:

"That means I'm not a proper Flandin by definition. I almost got disowned several times."

Now the boy doesn't even blink any more:

"Why, sir?"

"Because sadly many parents in the pureblood, noble lines regard their children as objects which they own and disown at will. You seem interested in this thing, huh?"

He takes off the pin on his shirt, which Malfoy has been curiously gazing at, and puts it in the boy's hand. The boy studies the object with visible astonishment.

"You can keep it if you like," Tristan slightly tilts his head and smiles.

"Is it pure gold, sir?"

"Yes, it is. I would prefer you however to keep it as a souvenir and not selling it for money. I must admit though that even if you did so I would have no idea."

His smile turns into a chuckle as he watches the boy studying the golden pin bearing the emblem of the Flandin House, simply dropping all the other worries in the world off his thirteen year old head.

"Let's have lunch, Tristan," says Severus. "Come, Draco".

What happens during the meal makes Ella smile. Malfoy starts off in street children style, trying to fill himself up as if he would go hungry for the next several months. But he eyes Tristan frequently and the black sheep Flandin's built-in classy manner seems to greatly influence him. In no time, he basically becomes a miniature copy of Tristan's classiness.

As soon as the meal is finished and tea is served, Malfoy lets his curiosity spill out again:

"Is it true that all Flandins are obliged to become academics, sir? I read that the motto of the Flandin House is 'Knowledge, Wisdom and Benevolence'."

"Yes," says Tristan. "The last part is more often than not ignored though, unfortunately."

"What is your field of study, sir?"

"Law."

"Law?"

Malfoy drops his spoon. The sound of the spoon hitting the table fills the air.

"Yes," Tristan raises an eyebrow.

Terror crawls backto the boy's face. Tristan chuckles:

"I'm not here to sue you, don't worry."

Malfoy moves his gaze to Ella and when it meets her eyes, he drops his head.

"Perhaps we can talk about it now," Severus says.

"Will you report me to the Aurors?," Malfoy murmurs.

The adults eye each other.

"If that were the purpose," says Severus, "I wouldn't have wasted my energy on searching for you myself. I could have easily let the Aurors do that."

Malfoy snaps his head up but Severus raises his index finger to stop him:

"Make no mistake however, this does not mean you will get away from the consequences of your actions. We just believe it would be less unpleasant for you to tell Ella and me the story than to do so to the Ministry's interrogators."

"If you are going to give me to them anyway, what's the difference?," Malfoy cries, his eyes still sticking to the table.

"The difference is we want to help you, Mr Malfoy," says Ella.

The boy starts sobbing again, trembling and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Ella sighs:

"I'll make some more tea… ouch!"

Pangs in her knees throw her back to her chair before she manages to stand up straight.

"Careful," says Tristan. "Let me do that."

He rises to brew another pot of tea. Severus hands Malfoy a handkerchief:

"Calm down. Now do you want to tell the story yourself or should I ask you questions?"

The boy stays silent until Tristan serves the tea. When the pot hits the table, for some reason, he raises his eyes to look at Tristan. Noticing it, Ella asks:

"Do you mind if Mr Flandin also hears you out? He is a lawyer, so he is the one who knows best how we can help you."

"But if you prefer me to retreat, that can certainly be arranged," says Tristan.

Malfoy cautiously scans all the adults. Severus looks him straight in the eyes:

"Have I ever entrapped or betrayed you, Draco?"

The boy freezes at that and unexpectedly, he slowly eases himself.

"Well?," Severus raises an eyebrow.

Malfoy sniffles and wipes his nose with his sleeve. Ella makes a mental note to definitely get that shirt to the laundry today.

"My parents disowned me," says Malfoy.

"Why?," asks Severus.

"Because I humiliated them."

"How?"

"I was expelled from school and got sentenced."

Ella and Tristan sighs in chorus. Tristan puts his elbows on the table and props his chin on his interlocked fingers.

"Which means you were probably transferred to foster home?," asks Severus.

"I ran away."

"From the child helper or from the facility?"

"The child helper."

"How?"

"I stunned him."

"With the Stunning Charm?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why did you decide to do that?"

"I didn't want to be in an orphanage. It's humiliating."

Ella massages her temples. Tristan sips his tea, his eyes sticking at the boy.

"And then?," asked Severus.

"I met the gang. They liked the purebloods and they had food. They let me join them."

"When exactly did you meet and join them?"

Malfoy pauses for a moment.

"The third day since I ran away, I think."

"Hmm. And what have you been doing being one of them? Besides kidnapping and torturing Professor Virtanen that is."

"Sev!," Ella hisses and hits Severus with her elbow.

"I DIDN'T WANT TO DO IT!"

The boy springs up from his seat and rushes towards the kitchen's door. Severus pulls out his wand but Tristan is faster. He also springs up and catches the boy by his arm.

"Yes, we have established that you didn't want to hurt her," says Severus. "Calm down and come back here."

Tristan guides him back in, but for some reason he chooses to come closer to Tristan's seat. Tristan pulls out a chair next to his and sits the boy down.

"Mr Malfoy," says Ella, "did the gang kidnap other people too?"

With a short gaze at her, he nods.

"How many people have they kidnaped in your presence?," Tristan tilts his head to look at him closer.

"Three," Malfoy murmurs.

"Is Professor Virtanen counted in that?"

"Yes."

"Who were the other two?"

"I don't know."

"Were they men? Women? Children? What kind of people were they, or did they seem to be?"

"They were mudbloods."

"Drink you tea."

Tristan pulls Malfoy's cup closer to him. His chin now propped on one fist, he studies the boy with a soft gaze, his eyes filled with sadness. While Malfoy is sipping his tea, he turns around to reach his briefcase on the window sill and takes out his pen and notebook.

"I'm just taking note as a habit," he says without looking up from his writing.

Malfoy blinks at him several times with worries written all over his face.

"He is our friend, Draco," says Severus. "I would like to emphasise again that we wouldn't have to go through all this trouble if we wanted to simply hand you over to the Aurors. It takes much less energy to do so."

"You said that they targeted muggleborn wizards? " asks Tristan, his pen proceeding smoothly in his notebook.

"Witches, sir. They were witches."

"Muggleborn witches. So they targeted women with a muggle background. What did they do to those captives?"

"They took their money and valuables. They tortured them and…"

Malfoy trails off, his hands rubbing and squeezing his arms.

"And what?"

No answer, only anxious breaths.

"Did they rape the women?," asks Tristan, his expression growing stone cold.

"Yes, sir," Malfoy murmurs.

"And what did they do after that?"

"They erased their memories and throws them somewhere on the roads."

Tristan pinches the bridge of his nose:

"Do you know whether they had done that many times before you joined?"

"Yes, sir."

"In which region?"

"I don't know. They brought me along by apparition."

"I see. Now the important question."

Tristan raises his eyes from the notebook and looks Malfoy in the eyes:

"To what extent did you participate in their activities?"

The boy freezes.

"I'm aware that you did perform the Cruciatus Curse on Professor Virtanen. Did you do that to the other two victims before her too?"

"Yes, sir," the boy murmurs so softly it sounds like he were swallowing his words.

"Did you use other assaulting spells such as the Stunning Charm or Immobulus?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you do so at the gang's orders or did you take initiative?"

"They told me to."

"I see. Now let's talk about the case of Professor Virtanen."

Ella sighs and props her cheek in one hand. Under the table, Severus holds her other hand in his. Tristan turns his notebook to a new page, his expression remaining blank and to-the-business:

"What I learnt from her is that you appeared to be quite eager to torture her. Not once, but several times."

"I was trying to make it less painful for her!," Malfoy cries.

On the other side of the table, tears also escape Ella's eyes.

"What do you mean?," Tristan raises an eyebrow.

"I pretended to torture her," the boy sniffles, "so they would think it was enough and leave her alone."

Ella swallows, not bothering to wipe her own tears.

"I see," Tristan comes back to his notes. "Why would you do that, Mr Malfoy? If they had found out, you would have been in danger yourself."

Trembling wildly, Malfoy rises and walks out of the room. It can be heard that he goes to the living room and then back. In his arms is the worn-out and dirty bundle he has been hugging close since his arrival. Putting it on the table, he slowly opens it under the adults' confused gazes.

There is only one thing in it. A coat. A woman's coat. Ella frowns. It looks ridiculously familiar. Carefully, Malfoy holds it with both hands and pushes it towards her.

"Mr Malfoy?," she asks.

"It's yours," he says quietly and wipes his nose with his sleeve.

"Mine?," Ella rounds her eyes. "How…"

"Don't you remember? That night in the Shrieking Shack. I broke the rules. I killed a house elf. I was in a lot of trouble. But the first thing you cared about was whether I was hurt and that I might be cold."

Now all gazes focus on Ella. She has totally melted into… she doesn't know what.

"And your wrapped me in your coat. No one had ever done that to me before. No one, except my mum."

Malfoy collapses. He buries his face in his folded arms on the table and cries like a baby.

"I was afraid they would do that to you!," he says, his words drown in tears, "I tried to stop them! I tried to deceive them! I had to beat you so they wouldn't realise… I'm sorry, Professor! I'm sorry!"

Ella rises from her seat and makes her way around the table to sit down next to him. She places her hand on his shoulder:

"Mr Malfoy?"

Still trembling, the boy raises his head. Ella wipes his tears with her fingers:

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy. I owe you my life."

The boy stares at her, dumbstruck. She smiles in her own tears:

"Isn't that obvious? And you have not even mentioned the milk yet."

He sniffles louder:

"I was afraid you would die. I didn't know how… I didn't know what to do…"

"Yes, I understand," she says with a soothing voice. "Now, do you want to talk more, or would you like to take a rest? You look exhausted."

"I want to rest, Professor," he murmurs.

"Come," says Severus. "I'll get you another shirt. And bring that bundle of yours too. It desperately needs a laundry."

As Severus and Malfoy go upstairs, Ella turns to Tristan:

"Can you put a Silence Charm here?"

Tristan raises a questioning eyebrow but does as she asks.

"Tristan," she sits up tall and looks him in the eyes, "I need to ask a favour of you."

The man studies her for a while before replying:

"Go ahead."

"Is it possible that you defend both of us?"

He shuts his eyes and massages his temples.

"I knew you were going to ask that. Pure Ella Virtanen."

"Is it possible?"

"It's legal, but insane at the same time," he lets out a loud sigh.

"Can you help me with this, Tristan?"

He props his cheek in one hand and gives her a tiresome look, his other hand spinning the pen over the notebook.

"And I will pay you for Mr Malfoy's case."

"What are you talking about?"

"About payment, yes. Because this does not belong to your activist work. Nor is it my personal case. You have been my personal lawyer free of charge for the past ten years, but this case is not about me and I'm asking you to do it so it only makes sense that I pay you for it."

"It's not like you have needed me every day for the past ten years."

"If you had worked as a personal lawyer for a paying client, would they have needed you every day?"

Tristan sighs and closes his notebook:

"Don't be ridiculous. I will do it for you. It's insane, by the way, but I'll try. You don't have to…"

"If you refuse to charge me for Mr Malfoy's case, I'll find him another lawyer."

"You are ridiculous," he moans.

"Is it a yes or a no?"

"Yes, but…"

"And no discount. I have ways to check your official prices."

"I have not been practicing for years."

"Try and see if I can find out whether you are charging a proper price," Ella smirks.

"Fine, I surrender you," he throws his hand up in the air. "If you insist on paying insane money."

"It's an insane case. Insane money is a matching price."

Shaking his head, he sips the rest of his tea.

"Where will the boy sleep at night?"

Ella sighs:

"The living room. That's the only choice. We have no other spaces."

"Actually you do. Split the attic in half. It's spacious up there. We can conjure a temporary wall in the middle to divide it up."

"Hmm… Sounds reasonable. Let's ask Severus about that. Are you sure you are fine with such a small space?"

"As long as I don't have to shrink when moving around, that's good enough," he grins. "And is there an extra bed for him?"

"I doubt that there is," Ella frowns.

"My bed can be split in half too. It's too wide for me anyway."

"You do realise how big you are, don't you?," Ella rounds her eyes.

"I'm just long. I can fit perfectly in a single bed."


	36. Chapter 36 - Healed

_**Author's note**_

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 36

 **HEALED**

"Did you tuck Draco in?"

Ella takes a quick glance at Severus. He has just entered the room and is putting off his shirt.

"Yes. Why are you lying like that?"

"My limbs are exhausted," her eyes slowly fall close.

She is lying prone on her abdomen, arms extended along her torso. Severus sits down on the edge of the bed and gently strikes her hair.

"Do they hurt?"

"No. But kind of losing sensations."

"I told you not to move too much."

"Erius said moving would speed up the healing."

"He didn't mean _that_ much."

"He didn't note anything about how much."

"Are you convinced now that it was _too_ much?"

"Mmm…"

Severus chuckles:

"This potion matured just in time."

"What potion?," Ella moans, her eyes remaining close.

"Mage Grass Oil. To massage the pain out of your limbs."

Her eyes slide open. Severus crawls over her and settles in the middle of the bed. He shakes up the vial of green liquid in his hand.

"Will it hurt?," she asks.

"Oils generally don't hurt unless you use them to fry yourself."

"I don't mean the oil. I mean the massage."

"Would presumably be uneasy at your tense spots. But tell me when it hurts and I will be more gentle."

"Uh huh," her eyes fall close again.

Severus coats his palms in the oil and firmly rubs along her limbs. She frowns and groans when he presses at the unhealed parts of her muscles, but otherwise it is extremely comfortable. Her limbs eventually gain back their sensations.

"Turn around," says Severus.

Not bothering to open her eyes, she flips herself onto her back and murmurs:

"Have you got some sort of medical training?"

"No. Why?"

"'cause this is not the first time you've healed me."

"I just gave you what I happened to have. There. Better now?"

The massage has ceased. Greatly pleased, Ella smiles:

"Mmmmmm…"

"Try sitting up. There is another potion for you still."

"Hmm?," she opens one eye. "What is it?"

"Sit up."

"No," she groans and rolls over to hug her knees.

"You are impossible."

Chuckling, Severus slides his arms beneath her, picks her up and places her on his lap. She takes the chance to curl up tighter and sink into him.

"Come on. Just a quick sip."

"Of what?," she buries her face in his chest.

"A Millennium Ginseng shot. You will feel much, much better."

"Millennium Ginseng?," she lazily opens her eyes. "Where on earth did you find that thing?"

"Korea, ordered by owl post."

He unplugs another vial of clear, golden coloured liquid and puts it in her hand.

"Drink up. I have just extracted it fresh."

Ella quietly blinks at the vial.

"What are you waiting for?," asks Severus.

"I'm hesitating to consume an insane amount of money."

"If you don't drink it now, it will lose its properties and that insane amount of money will be wasted."

Without further delay, she swallows the liquid bottom up.

"It's a joke by the way. I've just tricked you into drinking it."

"Arg!," she punches his chest. "Mischievous you!"

"I'm a Slytherin," he wraps her tighter in his arms.

"How much did it cost?," Ella murmurs.

"Lots of love."

Smiling, Ella eases her head on his shoulder. He digs his nose into her hair. A short silence goes by. Suddenly, a drop of liquid falls on her cheek.

She opens her eyes and looks up. More drops are escaping the corner of his eye.

"What is it, love?," she whispers.

"I don't understand," he sniffles. "Why did you have to go through all that? You deserve much better."

"Oh, love," she wipes his tear with a finger. "That's life. Now I'm here with you again, isn't it great?"

"It is," he kisses her forehead. "But you have lost so much weight. You are too slim now."

"You have been feeding me like a pig. I will be chubby again soon. Might be even more so than before."

"You've got to eat a lot and sleep very well," he presses his lips on her forehead.

"Exactly what I'm doing isn't it?," she giggles.

It is so relaxing, so warm, so comfortable. Ella slowly falls asleep right on his lap. But before long, she is abruptly waken up by a deafening alarm sound.

"What is it?"

Without answering her, Severus immediately rises and rushes downstairs, followed suit by Tristan. Ella also rises and struggles on her way after them.

"Explain yourself!," Severus bellows.

Malfoy has fallen to the floor in the hallway, facing the front door. He stares at Severus over his shoulder, dumbstruck and trembling.

"Trying to run away again?," Severus props his arm on his waist.

"You are going to give me to the Aurors!," Malfoy cries. "I don't want to be in prison!"

"To bed. Now!"

"Ouch!"

Grabbing the boy by the ear, Severus drags him upstairs despite his protesting cries. Ella opens her mouth to stop him but they have disappeared. Shortly after, Severus comes back down to meet a displeased Ella and a sleepy Tristan.

"Why did you have to do that to him?!," Ella snaps.

"He's a child. He needs a firm hand sometimes," Severus answers blankly.

"A firm hand?! He was disowned, Sev!"

Ella storms into the kitchen and puts the kettle on the stove.

"What are you doing?," asks Severus.

"I'm making him some calming tea and going up there to talk to him," she insists.

She hears a loud sigh and footsteps going upstairs. Some other footsteps approach the kitchen's door and stops there.

"After you've made that tea please let me bring it to him," Tristan sighs.

Ella glances at him over her shoulder.

"I talked to him a bit about the possible outcome of his case. And that scared him, apparently. I caused the problem; let me solve it."

"Do you need some coffee too?," Ella asks.

"Yes, thank you," he rubs his eyes and hides a yawn.

As they expected, Malfoy is not sleeping. Far from that. He is sitting on his bed like a heap of trouble. Tristan knocks on the ajar door:

"Can we come in, Draco?"

The boy gives a glare in reply. The two adults walk in. Ella puts the tray on the nightstand:

"I've made you some tea."

She pulls out a chair from the room's corner and sits down facing the boy.

"You are scared, aren't you?," she asks gently.

No answer.

"Running away won't solve any problem. It will only get you deeper into trouble. Isn't that what did happen the last time you ran away?"

More silence.

"There are a lot of dangers out there if you run away. And it won't get you out of trouble. The Aurors will catch you sooner or later. It's just a matter of time before they find you. Meanwhile if you stay with us, at least you'll be fed and safe and get the help you need. I assure you, reporting to the authorities with a lawyer representing you is much, much better than being arrested when in hiding."

The boy fiddles.

"Did you hear me, Mr Malfoy?"

"Yes," he murmurs.

"Now look at me," she grips his chin and drives him to meeting her gaze. "Promise me you won't run away, will you, Mf Malfoy?"

He blinks at her several times in silence. At last, he says:

"Can you call me 'Draco'?"

A smile slowly grows on Ella's face.

"Of course, Draco."

His features relaxes.

"Promise me you won't run away, will you?," Ella repeats.

"Yes, Professor," he murmurs.

Ella releases her grip:

"Does your ear still hurt?"

He flushes:

"No."

Ella softens her voice:

"You know he only did that because he cares so much about you, don't you?"

The boy nods and curls up, hugging his knees. Ella rises.

"Mr Flandin would like to talk to you a bit more about you legal matters. As for other matters, whenever you need help, please don't run to the front door. Run to my door instead."

He opens his eyes wide and gaze at her. She smiles:

"Good night. See you tomorrow. Good night, Tristan."

" _Oui, bonne nuit_ ," replies Tristan. [in French: _Oui, bonne nuit_. = Yes, good night.]

"Drink your coffee and speak English," Ella chuckles.

As soon as she closes the door behind her, she gets startled:

"Sweet Merlin! What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you?," Severus grins and pulls her into a hug. Laying a kiss on her cheek, he whispers: "You are an angel."

"Why this sudden flattery?," she whispers back, worried that they might be heard.

"Am I not allowed to compliment my wife sometimes?"

"What?"

Dumbstruck, they stare at each other. Flushing to the top of his ears, Severus rolls his eyes away from her gaze:

"Sorry. I mean my loved one."

"But that day will come, won't it?," Ella throws her arms around his neck.

"It will," he holds her close and walks her back to their bedroom.

As soon as Severus hits the mattress, Ella rolls into him.

"My limbs hardly hurt any more. Your hands are golden," she grins.

"I can tell from the way you are rolling," he chuckles. "They might be stiff again tomorrow. But I will give you the massage every night and it'll improve fast."

"Thank you, sweetheart," she kisses his cheek.

He rights her in his arm and uses his other arm to pull up the blanket and tuck them both in before turning off the light.

"Sev?," Ella whispers.

"Hmm?"

"Rub my back."

"Huh?"

"Rub my back. Like you did before."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Cautiously, Severus places his hand on the back of her neck and traces it down her spine. She shrinks.

"Are you okay, love?," his hands stops instantly.

"Yes," she gasps.

"You seem uneasy."

"I don't want to live with this fear forever."

A long silence endures.

"I understand," he gently tightens his embrace. "We can get you a psychotherapist."

"Not now. I will try to work on it myself first."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure, Sev. As long as you are here, I can cope with anything."

His hand continues on its way down her spine. She gasps and shrinks. The sensation of the rough pole where she was roped to near death fills her entire being. Shutting her eyes and taking a deep inhale, she throws her arm around his waist and squeezes it.

"It's me, love," he whispers. "You are safe. You are not there any more."


	37. Chapter 37 - As the sixth month dies

**_Author's note_**

 _Thank you for dropping by. I hope you enjoy the story. Your reviews are welcomed and cherished, always ;)_

CHAPTER 37

 **AS THE SIXTH MONTH DIES**

"Have you got everything you need?," Ella asks.

"Yes."

Draco answers with little spirit, his eyes sticking to the floor. The new backpack on his bed remains open, revealing the stuffs inside. Some new clothes, towels, a toothbrush, a comb, some parchment and quill with an built-in ink tube.

"I have written down your rights and obligations," Tristan hands him a roll of parchment carefully secured with a thin rope. "You should keep this safe and handy and refer to it often. Whenever you feel like your rights are being violated, require my presence instantly and refuse to speak or make decisions until I arrive. Do you remember?"

"Yes, sir," says Draco, not bothering to pick up his eyes.

"On the other hand, do your best to comply with the rules. I know it will be hard but good conduct will save you a lot of trouble in the future. I trust you can do it, can you?"

"Yes, sir."

"I will visit you every other day."

Draco slowly raises his head to look at Tristan. Tristan gives him a sad smile and a nod. Remaining quiet, he eyes Severus and Ella.

"We will visit you too," says Severus.

"Are you married?"

Surprised, all the adults stare at him. Ella chuckles:

"Not yet, Draco."

"I will let you know when it happens if you are interested," Severus smirks.

"Do you like reading?," asks Ella.

Pausing for a moment, he nods:

"Yes."

"I thought you might be interested in this."

Ella produces a book and hands it to him. He quietly studies the cover, which bears the title _BLOOD HIERARCHY IN WIZARDING WESTERN EUROPE: THE UNDERLYING THOUGHTS._

"Aurora Virtanen?," he murmurs. "The author has the same family name as yours."

"She is my mother," Ella smiles. "Would you like to bring it along to entertain yourself?"

"Yes. Thank you, Professor."

For the first time since his arrival, the boy produces a half smile. Tristan rises from his seat:

"Let's go."

They apparate to the Ministry of Magic. Tristan puts on his stone cold lawyer face to ensure them an undisturbed trip to the Law Enforcement Department. Ella must admit to herself that without him, she wouldn't manage this scary journey, much less supporting Draco through it. The boy's hand, held in her own, squeezes tighter and tighter as they approach the Aurors' Office.

After a one hour long procedure, Draco is admitted to the detention unit. It breaks Ella's heart when he looks back over his shoulder before disappearing behind the door, escorted by an officer.

The three adults remain silent for a long while on their way home. Not until they enters the familiar kitchen does Ella speaks up:

"I hope he will be fine in there."

Tristan pours himself a cup of coffee:

"I have done everything in my power to ensure that if they so much as display the intention to mess with his rights, they will find themselves in even more trouble than him."

Severus picks up his water bottle and disappears into his lab. Ella props her cheek in one hand:

"Do you have an estimation as to how much time he might have to serve?"

"One month, I hope," Tristan replies, tiresomely leaning at the kitchen counter.

"What is the juvenile custody facility like?"

"Fairly okay. It's summer break now so he will have much of the time for himself. Supervision system is good. Plus, if we visit him often, we will know if things go wrong. One month is quite easy to handle. That is if I succeed."

"No pressure but I don't see why you won't."

He tilts his head and wildly strikes his hair.

"Have you got an idea what to do next after he has served his time?"

"Severus and I have been thinking," says Ella. "We have not come up with a solution yet. It's hard. He definitely should continue his education; the question is how. We could homeschool him but we will be both in Hogwarts for most of the year, which renders it impossible. That leaves the option of sending him to another boarding school. But no other school in Europe offers English instructions."

Tristan muses in silence. At the end of his first cup of coffee, he sighs:

"Would be a pity to watch his future go astray. He has great potential."

"Every child has their own great potential."

Glancing at her, he smiles. Then he serves himself his second cup.

"Are you visiting your parents this summer?"

"No. I've moved it to Christmas."

"How about the summer field trips?"

"I've cancelled them too. Not ready to go out there again yet. I will review some literature instead."

Tristan takes a deep inhale and a large sip of coffee:

"Are you going to the annual conference of _Policies and Social Justice_ then?"

"I'll see."

"It'll be nice if you show up. You have missed it for so many years. People kept asking me where my co-author was."

"Wait, I have totally forgotten. How did the case of Remus turn out?"

Tristan puts down his cup and tucks his hands in his pocket:

"Suspended sentence and the record will be cleared after one year. After the trial, I referred him to the Minorities Support Organization. They promised to be in contact with him to help him find another job."

"That's great!," Ella rights herself on her seat. "Do you know where he is living now?"

"Hmm?," Tristan raises an eyebrow. "I thought you would have known. He stayed with Mr Black. Probably still staying there now."

"Really? I have no idea. Haven't talked to anyone about him lately."

"When will Harry come home?"

"End of next week."

The week of Draco's detention passes quickly. The three adults take turn to visit him. He seems fine, although he apparently has cried himself to sleep some nights and his anxiety escalates dramatically as the trial approaches. At the house in Spinner's End, Tristan shuts himself in his room all day and consumes more and more coffee.

As approved by the court, the trial takes place in private. Ella has never seen Tristan in this shape. During the trial, he is stone cold and as solid as steel. Defending both the victim and one of the defendants, underaged and with mixed behaviors, his position allows him little room to be anything less than that.

Ella squeezes her hands under the table and holds her breath waiting to hear Draco's sentence.

"… one month in custody at the Ministry's facility."

Ella's hands snap up to cover her mouth and wipe her tears. The weight let off is so great she feels as if she could very well be floating in the air.

"One month! He got one month!," she exclaims the moment she steps out of the court room.

Severus instantly rises and pulls her into a hug. Over his shoulder, she sees Harry keeping a blank face but his eyes blinking thoughtfully behind the glasses.

"How about the others?," asks Severus.

"Life sentence for two of them and ten years for the other. But Tristan believes they could be pardoned earlier."

Shortly later, Tristan appears, exhausted but relieved:

"All are well in place. I promised to visit him every week. This will pass in no time."

"I will visit him too," Ella beams. "We should have a very nice lunch today."

Harry remains quiet all the way home. Right after lunch, Tristan prepares to leave. His annual vacation ends precisely tomorrow.

Ella casually leans against the door frame of his room. His suitcase produces a click sound when he shuts it.

"I owe you a million thanks, Tristan. I consumed your whole vacation this year."

He rises to take his coat off the hanger and turns to facing her:

"Take care of yourself and gain back your weight to make up for that. And enjoy your time with your love," he winks.

Ella rolls her eyes.

"Will you drop by when you come to visit Draco?"

"I might or might not be able to. But I will when I can. Otherwise see you in Brussel."

"Hopefully," Ella shrugs.

"Aw, try to make it."

"Is there a good reason too?"

"Good wine and Belgian chocolate?"

"Hmm that works. I will come."

Tristan laughs. After a month of stress and hard work, they finally can laugh together again.

As the brown figure disappears into thin air, Ella leans her head on Severus' shoulder:

"Is it okay if I never move out of your room?"

"It's extremely okay," he whispers.

———————————

 **ENDING NOTE**

 _Dear readers,_

 _Ella's first year at Hogwarts is now over, which brings **Book 1** to an end. The coming year, to be covered in **Book 2** , awaits her with the Triwizard Tournament, her growing relationship with Severus and Harry turning fourteen, along with the remainders of this year._

 _I will spend some time refining **Book 1** language wise before getting started on Book 2, hopefully in one or two months. I would love to receive your general feedback for Book 1 as a whole and learn of your possible expectations on **Book 2**._

 _Thank you very much for your interest and support all along the way. Without you, the completion of_ ** _Ella – Book 1_** _would not have been possible._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Thái Khuê_


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